grief and fear in the air
the mineral scent of anxiety
he felt it
with divine magnitude
and also detachment of divine making
“I am the way the truth and the life.”
a deep breath in and
he’s harnessed the presence of
full-bloom love
ripe as choice olives
aged as wedding feast wine
bursting as yeast ready to be worked into bread
by Mother's hands
intimate and delightfully clinging
as herbed oil imparted in haste
by a lover.
filling… peaking through him.
a swelled wave.
it's risky, speaking as
and for
Abwoon
when you don't want others
to cling to you,
worship you or
claim you
as another idol to gather dust
and exploitation.
when you're teaching but retreating
and somehow never leaving.
stepping away from your circle
whose hands and smiles you've known in every life-defined line.
stepping out
handing them the
eternal infant.
“You know the way.”
this is not about a following of one.
it is a bestowing
of
a state of being.
so he breathed deep into the belly, pulled the shoulders back
extended his face upward
rooted through to the earth and said, when they demanded, heartbroken, “show us the way,”
You don't need a map to heaven.
You don't need special tricks.
“The kingdom of heaven is within you.”
Say. It. Do What I did.
Say it:
“I am the way the truth and the life.”
You are the way.
Abwoon doesn't hand you a map.
They make you the map.
Just do as I have done, and more.
I have made the way for you.
This is the way
God acts
She plants the map within us
She writes it on our beating hearts.
Image: [A person wearing draped fabric with long hair clasps their hands over their heart with closed eyes and slightly lifted head while another outstretched, tattooed hand reaches and places their hand there as well. The person is surrounded with roses in bloom. Colors are mono-pop blues, magentas, fuchsias and gold.]