Follow the Line Where It Goes

Photo by NeONBRAND on Unsplash

Apparently when I combine reading Lynda Barry with reading Rumi, I start to go on some deep inner voyages.

Trust the hand that wants to wrap itself around the instrument.

Trust the body knowing how to move the ink over paper.

Trust the deep silence underneath the Friday traffic —

Calling you to sit deep inside your own abdomen,

comfortable in your cushions of flesh,

observe the aliveness happening in heart, lung, spleen, intestines.

Gaze softly on your quietening uterus and the hushed preparations

for another life inside you.

See the curtains drawn, the walls lovingly caressed,

soothed in every broken place with cool cloths.

Feel everything stop and shake to its own music,

moving wild abandon shakes the whole body with sudden energies.

See it all. Know it is your own flesh.

Know your flesh is the flesh of every living thing —

Yours to protect, to serve,

to love deeply and hold endlessly.