This is a pause to reflect on place.
On where I have been, or where I am at. On where you are at, dangling off the sentenced end like that. Being here in the moment, this moment, this moment, The moment. So we say, Still your mind. Still your body. Still my beating. Still the present. Still the present. Still life. Dying art. Incongruous match of try and do, letting be be, Be.
In the words of a wise woman,*
What you can do with space:
make, create, take, give, and need
(visceral learning how to grow, of not pouting in drizzle on wet moss bluffs, holding onto being left out in your mind, little one, creating reality, getting your negativity all over everyone, let it go and be in the moment here now, give me some space, give me some space)
shift into a new place
(I passed? I passed you? Looking back, at you in that old place, switching place, disease like a dancing ache in the cold damp, wet knees and old jeans), now you can:
occupy, organize, simplify, plan, open, empty, fill, protect, cramp, map, aim, and target
go back to the room
(did we not call it open area, to give the place that freedom and that spontaneity, for episodes of learning occurring each day, and today the story may feature you)
where praise came for sharing and respect, learning society step by step
(frond, lover, snow queen, potter)
(Little steps, like counting out loud to one hundred, exercising not memory but endurance. Like wearing underpants under your best red skirt, for somersaults.)
Step into the circle and plant your feet, facing new city buds emerging. Visualize, try and think. did you drop that babe right over her grave? now nurture, cultivate, make your urban collective ready with children returned from those landscapes, leave wilderness wilds to imagined trimmings of copper and smoke on an old Brit page. Wait, stop, look where you are, where you go. Focus. Concentrate. Look there, look there, little one:
(amanita muscaria? the name I remember, but not where I saw one)
blend and merge and breathe being, becoming within it, part with part with part,
spaced far away out there, are you stranded or wandering, mind, where you went? is there where somewhere, found, located? Raphael pointing, project projection including continuum, with borders or edges or pindrops and margins? and contours with weather and ages and ages of feathered survivors? can you revisit? can you explain it?
Now come back to the body, lie still and follow the breath. With what may I follow, dear liza, dear liza? With what may I follow, dear liza, with what?
I am making my way back to where I belong.
*Honey Bee, by Jane Siberry. From her 1995 album, Maria.