Walking out of This World

One

Deep...

Warm...

Embracing sleep.

Arms and legs push out against a round wall.

One is there, not yet known by words. Simply responding to the warm stream of sweetness mixing with a body not yet filled with conscious purpose.

Another slithers into the resting body, whispering and waiting for One to enter another neighborhood where the whisperer is king.

All is still, feeding on the gift of a mother's body, protected and embraced.

Suddenly, when all is still and lying in sleep the genesis of its story spills out. The blanket escapes downward and a shiver shakes an unsuspecting body, announcing a newborn's life journey and a new discovery for One.

Waves. Pushing...Pushing down.

The little body tries to resist its expulsion from a comforting embrace.

Chaos moves One headlong, not able to grasp what is being left behind.

Pulling...Pulling yields a sense of sides and arms and legs flailing.

Suddenly shaken by another hard slap from behind. An undefined cool breeze fills gasping places inside, replacing liquid warm, and demanding One's body to work.

Cool and warm, alternating...Pulling in and pushing out, expelled from two bags.

One swims through the chaos, searching for that warm stream that feeds the demands of an empty body.

The stream returns with One's face pressed against a roundness, yielding its sweetness, taken with sucking. A sense of me and you crosses the divide that coming outside has forced into a recognition of two into One's experience.

Conscious recognition rises up from the deep like a cup filling with warm water. The dream is fading.

Yes, One whispers. "I am still here."

I have a name. It's John.

My eyes open with a sibilant sound. "Sh! All is well."

I'm the One! The thought rises, seeking to establish admission to a vote from my yes.

Intentions are brewing in a stew of emotions that are calling for freedom. Choices made in secret must now meet the light of day and be announced .

In the dark, behind the curtain that separates inner from outer comes that familiar whisper. "I am here to serve you!"

There's that letter, its secret hidden between the pages of a Playboy Magazine and stashed under my mattress. Its message is going to bring an unhappy confrontation to the dinner table..."Sh!"

What will we see and hear after a day of work on the farm is buttoned up?

"It's time to take a stand come hell or high water." The now familiar presence whispers.