The Unseen
The wind tickles my hair in the darkness.
It flirts, trying to find openings between my clothing
and my warm skin,
trying to find refuge from the cold,
to be comforted by the warmth close to my heart.
The hands of the night gently cradle and lift my jaw,
tilting my head backward,
lifting my head to the stars, to the curved round whiteness,
to the darkness adorned with jewels.
The hungry chasm in my eye searches for images.
What is within and beyond my vision?
Is that which fills the belly of this chasm the only reality?
The sperm on its’ journey intuitively moves toward
its’ glowing destination.
Is it aware of what is beyond that dark tunnel of flesh?
Blackness is my breath.
The memory of the sparkling sky is etched
on to the back of my eyelids.
I feel.
I hear.
I am the wind rushing through the leaves.
I am the stream, stones softly rattling.
I am the wave skidding across the sand.
I am the blood surging through my arteries.
The wind waits.
It stops searching for comfort.
Stillness
Squeaking calls alert all to the opening of the east.
The carmine glow gently prises the opening,
peeking through,
allowing the darkness to seep past its’ glances.
Feathers slide across the sky.
Crimson streaks now give way to the warm gold.
The sky is now an ocean.
My vision of the stillness has changed.
Although I may not fully understand what has been
reflected into my mind,
I have a memory of what I saw in the darkness,
I know the treasure still exists.
What happens to the knowing that was present
at the time the sperm achieved its’ union?
What has become of the knowing that accompanied
my first breath taken between my mothers’ thighs?
Just as I know the jewels are in the distant stillness,
I know that truth is in my heart.
I feel there,
more beautiful, profound realities than my eyes can find.
Sometimes it takes darkness to search and to see,
but once truth is remembered,
it will always be known.
Julie Stephenson
