sacred

there is paradox 
lining the permeable membrane 
of our tissues and a spark 
deep in our bone core
that knows it without confusion

there is suicide in clinging
too tight to one singular bundle of cells 
housing one single lifetime 
in forgetting all life in cramped protection of one self
but also in indifference 
in anything less than absolute devotion 
to the tiny flame placed gingerly in the warming house of our care, than reveling in each blaze of specificity holding the dark velvet womb of the sky

without every fiber of life being itself 
there’d be no threshold of air turned skin for you and I to inhabit

to know oneself eternal is to walk softly in the arms of death when she calls, to unearth her true face of welcome once we have come and danced our fill

but to quicken the drifting sands in our hourglass of numbered breaths, to tear the edges of the quilt of years we’ve been given
is to bruise and scatter our true reflection

you came here to remember you are holy
that is all

and remembering will pull each splintered separation from your tender spirit, will spill relief through every empty ache you thought was part of being human