Utterance-That-Rises-Briefly-From-The-Source

Peace is an odd word for the bubble of all there is

breaking repeatedly on the surface of the heart,

but I know of no other. The Native Americans

come closest; nothing between inner events

and what to call them. I see you and you always

glow. Why not call you One-who-shines-like-a-

sun-upon-first-meeting. Why not call the moment

of doubt and fear: Dark-point-spinning-loose-

that-presses-on-the-throat. Why not call the

moment of certainty, the fleeting moment

when everything that ever lived is right

behind my pounding heart, why not call

that moment: Beat-of-the-thousand-wings-

of-God-inside-my-chest. When I feel love so

deeply that I can’t bear it, when I feel it so much

that it can’t be contained or directed at any one

thing or person, why not call it: The-stone-at-the-

bottom-of-the-river-sings. Why not call you: The-

hand-that-plucks-me-from-the-bottom-of-the-river.

Why not call this miracle of life: The-sound-that-

never-stops-stirring-the-lost-within-the-sound-that-

never-stops-soothing-the-living-within-the-sound-that-

never-stops-sounding-in-the-eyes-of-dead-things-coming-

alive-again-and-again-and-again…

A Question to Walk With: Describe a moment when you felt life other than your own move through you. What opened you to this feeling? How did it change you?

This excerpt is from my book, The Way Under The Way: The Place of True Meeting (Sounds True, 2016).

*photo credit: Unsplash