Where is there not
the poison,
God?
Where is the place
in me
without any hardness,
where my original heart softness
can dance
Love
without inadvertently tripping over
(my own or anothers)
past woundedness
just waiting
to be de-scabbed---

just waiting
to bleed once again---

the poison of old
angers,
hates,
shames,
fears.

Just waiting to be felt.

Watching 'my' life
lurching,
spinning,
struggling to stay balanced,
structured,
while the chaotic strobelight
of rights and wrongs,
of self and other,
seems to be
struggling just as mightily
to break,
to crush,
whatever of this 'me'
remains....

Longing to find
safe refuge,
here am I,
naked as created,
once again simply
a babe
being born.