Untitled

May 2, 2003

So long is the day that I drift over thoughts
that have become irrelevant to my life.
How long can I deeply believe these thoughts real?
I've been going for years, open to so many
of the biggest, most difficult things to believe.
I look into the blue sky, brushed with
the white strokes of cirrus clouds
and I see creation as the sacred earth.
I feel around me unseen energy
that bursts out of physicality.
I hear the cats play, birds sing,
and I must accept these all as reality.
In the hour of birth, the world
geared up around me and I saw
angels and ancestors not yet moved on
hovering to help me bring life into the world.
I know the power of the mind to change
what I live and how I survive.
There are places I go in dreams
and there are people I know only
in a meditative vision, but all of this,
I believe without much persuasion.
The only thing that doesn't seem as real
is the one thing that I don't tell.
A long time ago, it came to me, and I sought
this one very intense feeling.
Who I found on the other end still lies
as a question I don't want to answer.
There are many times I've picked up
on other people's lives, other people's voices
and found that I was very close to their truths.
One in particular I still carry hidden.
I cannot be the first to make the scary
and dangerous revelation of belief.
All the other things I hold dear
would become quaint and intangible.
Those who mock me would only utter,
"See, I told you she was a flake."
I dare not risk it at this stage of my life.
My own skeptical senses keep me quiet.
Do not for a second think, though,
that this isn't always a part of me.