Beloved,
all that stands between me and you is my mind
with its insatiable demands, intrusive prodding,
not satisfied to be with you, but wanting proof,
the right feeling, the glib understanding.
The earth does not chat with the oak tree.
My roots do not say what they see
far in the depths of you,
my soul in the empty space you’ve made for me,
my body floating in the lake of your presence.
My mind is only in the way
since I am already here
held in the womb of your darkness,
borne in the arms of your silence.
I am already here.
—September 6, 2018