“Come.”

The familiar feelings continue to arise: a dull throb in the joints; aches in the neck, back, knee; the knot in the stomach. The agitating numbness of anxiety, and its corresponding rise of triggering thoughts: “What am I missing? What if something goes wrong? What if I am…”

arousal

“Come.”

The subtle nudge. The whisper shouted from rooftops, and yet as inaudible as a dog whistle. To follow, sit still. Forget everything that is. Breathe. Consent, but don’t identify. Let it all slip into a “cloud of forgetting,” awash in the rhythm of one uncontrolled breath after another.

and yet this need

“Come.”

Sit before the “cloud of unknowing,” with everything else left in the cloud of forgetting. Oh, but the kaleidescope of thoughts is a stampede of storm-panicked mustangs. Still, let them go beneath the cloud of forgetting. Breathe. Be amidst the cloud of unknowing.

to let go

Return. Then everything reflects the One. The restless heart rests as last.

Until the familiar feelings arise again…

between us

this necessary

obscurity

how many times

I return

for 6th March 2021 prompt: Gerry Muse #248 (occasional tanka prose)

Update: for dVerse Poets’ Open Link Night #285: On This Day… (pubtended by Linda Lee Lyberg)