Hands tremble. Bypass my head, from the canyon of my heart, they reach…
fumble and tumble
Like a school girl at recess, knobby kneed, legs buckling under the weight of joy
running towards daddy’s embrace,
I am Giddy. Downright pure. Unblemished by what my outsides have known.
Wide eyed and wonder-full I extend myself towards You
Yoga in my soul
Ripe with the thrill of what could be.
Clouds part, joy-fills, my vessel overflows.
Sticky and sloppy like popsicle juice dripping down a bare arm in summer.
I pause to taste the sweet syrup on my skin
And in that lapse, that pause, that hole
inhibition crashes into self awareness in the mosh-pit of my core
In a flash, a new frame, I am awkward.
Brace-faced and unsure.
I look inward, sharp
Glass on silk.
I draw a breath stained thick with too much self,
Wearing it hard, like a T-shirt, like a boot, like nicotine on a wrinkled finger.
Our encounter has become a first date in heels too high.
Damn it. This is so not who I want to be.
A will a fever into my hands, gather the strength of both the right and the left.
And I push.
Push for harder, for deeper, for more of You through me and in me.
I want You.
Will I find favor?
I need You.
Can you see who I really am?
I peel myself from myself
I. Am. Doing. This.
I reach out, my hand a magnet to the heat that pulses from in and around this wall between You and Me.
In an instant all my unsure places are steadied by the rock that points to You.
I climb inside like a baby to womb, like pea to pod.
I want to stay.
Be heard. Be felt. Be known.
Lips part – prayer finds a home.
I am received.