"To be alone for any length of time
is to shed an outer skin. The body is
inhabited in a different way when we
are alone than when we are with others.
Alone, we live in our bodies as a question
rather than a statement."
--David Whyte, from Consolations
Eleven years shedding skin
drinking deep from the well
of rough training.
Intimate with territories of heart-mind
reserved for orphans, widows, exiles,
no skin remains except lush word-filled silence.
This body, in winter,
corpse-like under the blanket of night, dreaming;
in summer, jaguar-like, soundless, observant, moving through the humid dark.
I ponder what color Chan robe the Spirit of Time will put on these bones,
and even that thought falls away.
Then there are days like this one
when I wonder if, in some parallel reality
beyond the great hallway of billowing quantum curtains,
there is another version of me
standing on a high hill with another version of you
overlooking a valley
talking about how the flowers
seem to shimmer in the afternoon light.
(c) 2017 / Frank LaRue Owen / purelandpoetry.com
For more information about the lead-in quote, the book Consolations, and other poetry and prose writing of David Whyte, visit his site: David Whyte & Many Rivers