Walking and swooping and pausing

walking and swooping and pausing

turning inward I find myself

in the tendrils in the the flowing bloom

of the latice work of nerves 

rising like some aquatic weed

flowing and swooping and pausing

my mouth shapes soundless meaning carried on the breath

where inwards and outwards are no longer separate but one direction

Flowering and swooping and pausing

turning inwards I find myself

my fingers my palms open 

blooming like sea anemonies

slowly taking on the minute arcs

of the ocean currents 

that are not lost to the inmensity

floating and swooping and pausing

—Lorena Wolfman