Writers
Poem
Poem: Incarnation
0Dominique Larntz * January 3 * “Love Letters To My Body”
Incarnation
Stay. Sit with me
for a while.
Dreamworld is still
upon me
and I have not yet
encountered
the corsetry
of the ego,
in its military motions
and ambitious amplifiers.
The voice of life
is gentle,
supporting even
that folly.
If we are one,
we are more
like water
and less like
lions.
I am not sure
how to classify water.
We like to make movies
about predators like lions,
zooming in on how they
hunt and strike and eat
their prey.
Water does lots of things.
Maybe it preys.
It also forms us, fills us,
refreshes us,
grows and houses
our life
and the lives
of species
we have yet to
discover and name.
I praise the water
in me, the water outside of me,
that links me to every
being on this planet
and to the cosmos.
I know
I cannot stay
in this body–
in this life–
forever.
I don’t need
what people say
I need.
I do have the deep
desire to survive
that every life
shares–the blade of grass
that bends
instead of breaks
when your foot
descends
and the palm tree that
arcs into a parabola
when a hurricane hits
its beach.
But life made us mortal
and only our delusions
make us otherwise.
At this moment,
I am friends with life
and life has brought us
together, two bodies,
holding at least
as many states
as water.
Poem: Magic Spaces
0Dominique Larntz * January 2, 2012 * “Love Letters To My Body”
Magic Spaces
I find space in the most mundane places.
I have found too much air in ziploc bags in the freezer
after celebrations so we could tetris leftovers more frugally.
I have found I can pause between inhale and exhale
and calm myself down to my toes.
Today it was in the laundry room where I discovered
two huge drawers under the washer I never knew existed.
This makes me question the definition of mundane.
Healing is found in the same way for me.
The things I am not doing are better for me than the
things I am supposed to do.
Sometimes when I get very still.
Very still.
I can ask, and my body will present an idea to me, one all my own
that appears like an image in my mind. An ‘of course’ that was there
all along, like those drawers under my washer and dryer, a place
to keep the things that will scrub away the years of abuse
and hardship my inner and outer world have heaped upon this
magical, wondrous, gorgeous, moving coalition of cells
that has befriended me in this life.
Carrying the most precious messages of all.
Poem: This is Where I Live
0Dominique Larntz * January 1, 2012 * “Love Letters To My Body”
This is Where I Live
I love my rich body,
and its pleasure
in pouring
into the world
like water.
I can sense a way
to hold myself
as I have spiraled
about you
and as I have been
the sweetest love letter
enveloped within
your arms.
There is no gratitude
physical enough
or loud enough
to express
the truth
that we ache
and arch
and reach
into mature creatures
as we see the seeds
of our identity
in the eyes
of our lovers.