A Moment of Clarity

To begin again is such a beautiful thing. Especially when this is truly the only second start. To acknowledge the layered fabrications of soiled cloth-- the suffocating truths and dream realities-- the cage inside a seashell and the forever tide of guilt and sickening regret. Finally to be worn down by the sea-- to the tiny grain of sand, tired and gleaming at the center of it all. And to really see her-- me-- and grow and forgive and remember and cry and forgive again.

To come back to God-- who never had a face or a name. I've known that all along. So why did I throw myself into that fruitless, endless, and painful maze? Not able to acknowledge the wisdom and the truth that my soul turned the wrinkled corners of her mouth up at. It was all a cave. Buried deep within the burning sands. Sands which god has scooped up into the palms of his cooling hands-- allowing it to trickle back down to earth in sparkling blue droplets which run down my cheeks, over my breasts, my stomach, and leaving my thighs, shining as they gather in puddles around my ankles.

I see myself again. Perhaps only for the second time since the day that I was born. And I know that this is fleeting-- as any gift of God, any true magical vision must be-- but it is the beginning-- the gift of a light-- in bubbles blowing the dust off the reddened wooden case of my heart.

And shining tears of polish and the wailing pink folds of birth meet each other for one moment. One breath. One whisper. One blinding flash of newness. And the rest is left to me.