Rest, now.
Let the weight you run from every day
now draw you down.
Later there will be more time to tend
to everything left undone
Now, rest.
Fall
into your own bones
lying horizontal on this ground.
Come
into your dark corners.
Come into this
original nakedness
under all the layers.
Come where all your losses
split
you
open.
Don't rise,
yet --
rest.
Be drawn deeper down
into the salt tide of tears.
Let grief wash you,
then drown you
beyond the name
you were first given,
when you reached to touch
your own mother's face for the very first time,
and she smiled her light down into you.
Now reach those same fingers
for the face of infinity --
so that, opening your eyes,
you will know
the one dreaming you
is pleased with you,
that everything seen
is your self,
and that now is the time
to rise wholehearted into the work
aching to be animated
by precisely you.
~ from Bury The Seed (Performance Integral, 2020)
