Slow down.

Whoa,
slow down.

There is a way to do this.

A way to do it all
without feeling pieces of shrapnel
carving cave lines into the ear bones.

A way to do it all
and feel electricity in the veins,
singular purpose so singular, elephants in the foothills.

You’ve got to read your recipe;
the one written in blood and acid
on tiny sinews within yourself.

For me, for you:
the breath. The long breath. The deep breath. The breath
that goes so long, so deep as to tunnel the earth
and come out the other side.

Second, the words. The long words. The deep words. The words
that arise from the soul and descend to the toes so long, so deep
as to make it through that tough hide.

Then, the music. The long chords. The deep strums. The songs
that tickle the fingertips and wrap around the heart,
not squeezing, not squeezing, just pulsing so gently.

We’re still reading the recipe
but if we’ve gotten this far then
surely there’s more.

My love, my love,
my deepest of loves,
please breathe, please breathe
please be at peace.


 

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