Secular

0
789

(a Journey)

I do not make light of the heaviness

which dwells in my heart. And I think to my chi,

“perhaps if I empty my insides,

it will all fall out too.”

she tells me what I know is truth. That it simply grabs hold

tighter to my blood. That I cannot drain myself more

than I already have.

And so I ran.

I ran past roads I would never choose

and past choice itself.

I ran past my husband, past my wife, and past my three children building a careful fort.

I do not run circles ‘round the moon for

absolutely no reason. But I felt alien

in my own town and future.

Sitting by the septic tanks against the

wide expanse of field and fortune and sky sky sky.

It overwhelmed me.

I had no idea how far I’d gone. I screamed

like I had never done before unless instructed to on stage.

I felt like a symbol sitting between

the reeking pollution of my own mind and the love of God

was trying so hard to show me through

the healing in my running- and just- living.

I listened.

I heard no songs. Only cars and wind and

my own breath, trying so hard to be caught. I found a bridge,

taut as an insect’s wing,

unfolding orange and gold in the evening light

the air was cold like snow.

Then I pulled up my socks and walked back home.

I was wrapped in myself and did not want to go on living

there. Something about the strangeness of

woods and field’s free from company… I feel an eeriness that shivers in

my brain, awakening fears.

Last night I had hand-sewn bits of myself to the core, and yet I

forgot the beauty today,

it left with the steam of my neglected coffee—

its soul lost in the heat of things.

And I did cry a little.

Because I am weak without the sky.

His pelvis and elbows force time across one

deliberated axis. One that I am searching to

find. And this is how the past has become

past.

Yet life is bright in loose time,

and under these formal tall trees, I find it in footsteps; that I am beauty itself,

given and received.

-Claire Small

This is a small representation of the high-quality writings you’ll find in every issue of TIFERET.

We receive no outside funding and rely on subscription sales, workshop fees, and donations to publish. If you enjoy our journal’s verbal and visual offerings, we hope you’ll consider supporting us in one of these ways.

Subscribe Today to Read More!