Sunday, September 23, 2012

Breathing In the Sky

My mind is breathing. It swallows
the sky, transforms it, exhales it.
In, step, step. Out, step, step. In...
My heart is pounding to the rhythm,
like a gnashing cymbal inside my ribs.
My ears feel it vibrating, reaching out,
setting my feet to the reckless beat.
A thousand metronomes
are tap, tap, tapping their own
cadence on the ground. This is
everything. This is nothing.
This is deliverance flooding through
my body. This is exile. I know at once
that I am home. I am Adam.
Dead. Reborn. Dying. Living. Waking.
Sleeping. I am no one. I am
everyone. My body is the eye
of a storm. I do not think. Yet I am
moving forward. Always moving.
In, step, step. Out, step, step. In...
This is my body. Breaking. This is my
breath. In. This is my blood. Flowing.
This is my breath. Out. No room
for weakness in this place, nor fear,
nor doubt. Just pain. Drink the cup. 
I falter. I sense the bitter taste.
Drink the cup. Drink it. Drink it. The pain,
it whispers. The metronome
is tap, tap tapping. I breathe pain in,
I breathe it out. I find the cup pressed
to my lips. I bear it to my body. I taste
the bitterness in my lungs, my legs, my
self. Time stops. There is only movement.
Movement forward. Never slower.
Always slower. The cup is a choice,
I dare believe it; believe that I am more
than the rocks underneath me,
than the mud splattered down my legs.
I am more than every goddamned day
of sweating, pushing, pounding
on the ground. I am more than blurry
thoughts forgetting. More than the iron
in the pill, in the field house, in my feet.
I bear it to my body. I taste its bitterness.
Time. Movement. Choices. Me.

The finish line.

I am on my knees. Too much to stand.
Too much not to prostrate here. This day
I lived my entire life and died. This moment
I find myself in paradise.
Sweat overcomes my tears.
It is finished.
How can I stand? This place I kneel
is holy. This moment is holy.
My broken body, my pain, the dirt, all holy.
And finally I sense it.
Among all voices
Well done. 

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