Floating here some three thousand miles off Portugal I hang in your green, breath held, limbs still, ears just under water, feet pointing down into mystery. The sea in my veins is so close to you, blood of the planet I throb in. In your silence I feel the crashing of waves in my heartbeat, the wind in and out when I come up to breathe. It may look just barely but I feel so alive. You have no ill will yet I know if I breathe wrong you will take me. This far north your hands are cold, your lips are cold. Still I float in your womb and you say “I will hold you.” Sitting in my umbilical prayers I hear you. Mountains and deserts say this, too. And beside a little white church on a North Dakota prairie a plot of ground, surrounded by family names, says as well, “I will hold you.” I hear you. I hang here in this green moment.
__________________ Steve Garnaas-Holmes Unfolding Light www.unfoldinglight.net
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