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How to Conjure a Stir

I know the quietest way to conjure a stir.

The heated carpet

beneath my face

strewn in the light

through the openings of the blinds,

blinded as I look to source

and upon my closed eyes

dancing auras

that escape my attempted gaze,

you used to do the same,

shifting with each attempted capture.

About the stir…

it ran deep

I know this silence and slow observation

as a gift, in time.

The same as the smell of juniper berries crushed into my hands

seemingly small

infinitely grand.

The way my skin retracted at the first submersion into cold water,

gasping for air

after being held below

a little too long,

long enough to slow silence.

The stir of my desire to “be” again,

to gain an understanding of why

was irrelevant…

the stir of life,

the sublime of silence,

the way life becomes a birth

into something unrecognizable


and, yet, a force unforgettable

because when I listen to silence

I feel the stir

listening for feelings of what it is to know,

to trust that in silence comes clarity,

in silence comes

the waves of breath and the smell of budding life

breathlessly breaking through the blinds

as my face lies warm against the ground

soaked in solar seduction

a silence that reminds me to receive and to allow.

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