My hand found my heart and my thumb carved out an open space.
I sat cross-legged, perched, with an open heart and open palms.
I made a choice from one to the other and began to create the writing on the wall.
Then, flutters of breath arose; a need for release.
I laid stomach down, arms in front, face buried in my hair.
My arms protected my eyes and shielded them from the light.
My palms found each other and clasped the Other.
With my fingertips intertwined and the sense of joining another, both pain and comfort found my heart place and flutters turned to tears. Release was found.
I yearned for a palm to be pressed on my back, the space between my scapulae.
The joiners let go and explored separation and small connections: my pinky found a thumb, a ring-finger to index...they needed space.
I needed to find the weight in my arms and feel the strength of my shoulders.
I ended up crawling, entering the space and leaving, entering and leaving...
With arms overhead, the wall seemed crooked. I could not find the balance.
And so, I sat up, slid my back up against the wall and began to roll, leaning my weight into the hard surface, pressing and feeling the liminal space between the dry wall and my skin.
I pressed my
hands
arms
back
cheek
chest
forehead
in preparation to return.
When I came back, I reached my arm out, palm up, and fit my fingers underneath. And with this one, small connection, I was met with so much joy and laughter! They engulfed me.
