If I close my eyes and caress my skin,
I can separate host from the soul within.
Curling gentle fingers around my arm,
I untangle myself from discomfort or harm.
My hand slips down the expanse of skin,
the limb becomes part of the form lived in.
I am two way profound, both in harmony
with sun after rain and the tides of the sea.
If I open my eyes, all I touch becomes clear,
like a fresh water stream, or an infants tear.
In the mirror I see how others see me,
But beneath mortal calm. I long to be free.
My body a shield for quintessence below,
I am perfume collector, free miracle show.
No different from you, on the outer at least,
but deep inside nestles a lamb, or a beast.
If I close my eyes and caress my skin
I can separate host from the soul within.
Never the less I control each breath,
until nature, sweet talks my host to her death.
©Roan Feb.2009
Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance – Carl Sandburg
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