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September 22, 2014

Roots of Rhythm. {Poem}

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On the edge of some universe…this mist of salt, sea, vapor.

a veil of quiet, tucked below the call and response of the sea gulls and sea otters who command the soundtrack of this breaking day.

one, two three, four… sages of wings and beaks and whiskers squawk in quarter time.

in this early hour I am the trespasser on their property.

stealing a patch of this earth as my classroom…a model to be studied, perhaps emulated.

breathing in…a long examined exhale. over and over, my trusted breath an anchor. arriving. the earth rising up to meet me. senses filling. my state already altered.

one breath, one motion…
what was static becoming fluid.
this canvas of stone basks in the rising shimmer.

glorious breath in…
much sound with my exhale.
me in the neighboring surf. The surf in me.
its cadence inclines me to an alternate view.

through crown and hand i snatch the mighty from these elements. feet in the clouds. head in the earth. coral beams meet sodium air and contain this field of presence that, for this moment, is me.

pose sculpting around breath. the sea suggests a lightness of being.
inhale, softening…exhale life coursing through my limbs. diving deeper.
planting the seeds for my thursday.

ever brightening sky. my song raves on…
heart saluting majesty.
this clean slate my tattoo for the hours yet to unfold.
downshift… back to the start.
the effort falls away quietly as the background in some photograph.
my lesson now finished. roots of rhythm escorting me into my day.

one, two three, four…
they of wings and beaks and whiskers carry on with purpose, as will i.

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Editor: Emma Ruffin

Photos: Author’s Own

 

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