Tuesday, May 05, 2009
WHO I FOUND
First finding that perfect oval of silver, a shape worth mentioning, I bent wondering, then touching, smoothing around the gentle arc. For it seemed to beat as a heart and pump as a heart, but shine like an iced and fallen star in the palm of my sanded hand.
It was no larger or smaller, than a silver dollar, yet when my eye caught its beckon hidden in the fine grains beneath my feet, I knew that its insistence meant something.
More than just a coin of nothing, it sang some sort of song. The whooshing and vibrating into my feet, legs and then my hand rushed in on whitecapped crests. Was I imagining?
The song was of desire primal and needful. The song sung in rivers, earth and trees. The gulping air of mountain peaks. One that gulls need not learn. A simple song of praise and purpose. The song of You, dear One. You alone.
I could no more dispose of one so special than pass it by.
Quickly it had become a blood singing in me, standing on the hot sand blown by fishy breezes.
So I closed around its graininess a soft flesh, and that was my prayer.
That grasping. That flesh to You. The surrender of it all as waves tickled the shoreline, as gulls screeched, was me. Me to You with no edges or borders, nothing but the rising on the high air currents into the blinding sky.
It answered only with a sun-drenched warmth. And did I hear a yes so softly that my heart barely registered it?
Yes.
Here it is now, in my pocket, riding with me, singing with my voice, whispering with Yours. I carry it a bit duller for the wear, as I travel sanded, rocky, stone turned, or snow-diamond glittered roads, listening to the Voice, remembering the gift, Knowing Who.
c 05/05/2009 M. LaPointe