…I went to the lotus…to breathe, to realign & recover the silence…my path was lined with prairie dropseed…my fingers mingling with the height…my hand blooming, a coriander perfume… …hummingbirds navigated stalks, darting in and out, a hide and seek game…one slowing, hovering…eye to eye, we considered the other… …and to the azure sky my focus…prehistoric angles & serene lengths, so was built the heron…softly landing atop the evergreen, amongst the tangled knit of summer growth… …tree swallows engaged an aerial dance…a belted kingfisher meditated atop the slate roof of a spring house… …I, nature’s familiar of ancient lot… …I feel people, hear them vibrate…a cartographer of behavior…I read & decode…exhausting & destructive to my rhythm…the wild keeps me centered & grounded… …I go to the lotus for confirmation & absolution…where my sins aren’t catalogued and condemned…rather assimilated as an integral part of my whole…where my evils are instinct & survival…beautiful and holy…bloodlet & moon-tide… …a harbinger…a rise, a stitch… …water moccasin & copperhead…primal & immortal…sensual & shadow…a force of nature…I am who the rabbit foretold… …I go to the lotus to remember…exiles and resurrections…to honor my deaths & circumnavigate existence… …I go to the lotus to exalt my demons & exit the dead…..
E.A. O'Connell
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