birthing bed confession (audio poetry 2:30)

To you alone this confession I make,
I did not come here
to be entertained into slack-jawed obscurity –
Even in the midst of a talkative crowd
I seek to sink my line deeply into Divine waters,
The jib-jabbery of distraction bludgeons
the sanctity of a poised silence
Yet more times than I care to count,
I have wielded the weapon well

Between you and me and no one else,
I have time and again led myself
into a corner of self-created separatism,
Predisposed by an ardent architecture of Spirit
that renders instrumentation askew –
But I grant you willingly that I knew no other way!
And this I will not deny

Of my own volition I allow,
I have walked the plank
with my heart jitterbugging in the palm of my hand,
Neural ribbons clogged and jammed
with the rush-hour crawl of chemistry –
More than once I raced past Persephone’s daughters
arrayed in primrose yellow,
Drawn without regret to the siren song
that tempts all but the greatest among us

I will not feign a surrogate truth,
The weight of alienation has pinned my wings
in the loam of this gravity-rich orb,
Pinched me into a frantic gasping
to kiss without end the breath of the sacred –
And now, with but a reed-thin parting of my lips,
A long, sinewy outbreath
leads into the crystalline pool of the One.