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You are split-reed, top of a plant, that time between growing new shoots and shedding woody remains of last season. I pull you in with my hands but cannot speak - we become this bridge this split reed, reed of flute making, reed of rejoicing, reed of the warm mat, reed for the hand to feel sheltered, reed of what brittle, shakes off into piles, accumulates--ground, beach, marsh, blanket lifts over body of water with tide, separating reed, reed of oneness, reed that bridges all seasons. How does the blanket tell the new shoots that it's still part of them. How do I tell you? I presume you know because I know.
Water Meditation (Reprieve)
A dream, living in the Window Peace, by CoCo Gordon
WATER MEDITATION (REPRIEVE)
a dream while living in the Window Peace
We are on a beach, we're beached.
We are beached a fish and myself
we're both in the shape of a fish
we're both inert, we're both not living, we're both alive
we're both going vertically instead of horizontally
we keep washing back to the same place
we don't know if we are advancing or retreating
we don't know if we want to advance or retreat,
we're having this silent race with each other
keeping track of each other's progress or regress
and we're trying awfully hard to get to land by
non movement, by serene being, by
letting ourselves
just float
our powers.