Down Deep

Go down deep,

They said.

So I did,

To the very marrow,

Delving through warmth

And slushish blood,

Syrup-sticky drying

On my hands.

Or slippery silk when running

Through my fingers,

Like the hair of the one

I love.


Go deeper,

They said,

So I did,

Within organs ripe and ready,

Plump with the turn of decay.

I am taken by the beauty of her,

The whole inside.

It has me,

She has me.

I shine,

Like the hair of the one

I love.


February 2020



This poem came to me after a meditation session. I see, hear, and feel all sorts of odd things while meditating. On this occasion, I got the sensation of running my fingers through long hair and a sense of love and loss. A word then popped into my head - marrow. I suppose I could have written about a great big green thing on a vine, but that's just not me.



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