We Have Been It All

I have been it all.

The sinner

and the saint.

The one begging for food

and the one turning a blind eye.

The preacher

with fire on his tongue,

and the one

just praying to be heard.

The mother

and the newborn child.

And perhaps,

both, to you.

—

So how is it

that I can judge?

That I can

act like their ache

isn’t also mine -

When I have been there, too.

Could just as easily

be there now.

Might return there one day

if it is the fate written

into the fold of my name.

Fuuuuck sometimes,

it’s just too much.

Easier to

numb out.

Scroll.

Swipe.

To pretend like

I don’t know

what I know,

don’t see

what I see.

But somewhere

in the ocean

of my amnesia

something remembers:

The me as the orphan.

The me as a prostitute.

The me as the shepherd with his sheep.

Versions,

now distant echoes,

soft feathers in the wind

of my memory.

And perhaps

that is why -

Every time I walk

into a new land,

a new world,

a new set of arms

It feels

like a return.

A retracing of steps

each one

digging my feet

a little deeper

into this sacred remembrance.

Of the magnitude

of colors

swirling in my blood.

And the universe of worlds

beating

inside my chest.

All of them

aching

praying -

for the day

we finally

arrive

TOGETHER

within the same one.

~ uni - verse, one verse, one song x x