One Birth

...all the parts, though many, still making up one

single body...and all the parts share its joy.           

(1 Corinthians 12)

          Let us suppose once more:

The ant has scurried back

into earth's loins,

sweetness on its back.

It hurries past; we recognize

its coveting, the white-gold burden

of its satchel -

and we bundle ours more diligently,

twice.

          A scattered fall

has given way to tight, appointed

frost.  Our workshoes press

a lode - the gopher's tunnel, dragged

time and time again, bloodless

and bloodletting in its maze.

     Once more we recognize

the corridor, purest

always when our heel strikes hard

and opens up a vent.

The burrow air will wish its way

unchecked, zealous in its ache

for exits, smooth or rough-

edged at the ends.

          The breeze relies on them....

          All that seeps in will outpour,

manifest in fresh aroma, sour

in a bone's delay,

the consummation real

in each death.

          Let us suppose we all consume,

will be consumed, and consummate

our living with the heart pressed

hard against the freeze.

A child cries quietly.

We cannot hear the call,

unless an icicle, drawn-out and

patient, close to mouth, melts

with the rush of heartwarm particles

puffed free.

          Their carom crazes the cave -

all shells, all crystal, carbon,

lode of iron hidden in the shaft,

gem and no-gem breached

and treated to the same birthing.

          The wall is clean eruption,

burst of steam that thaws a single

glacier, single stream -

a single exodus of people....

          Ah, how they tug; how we

tug: open at the wrist, digit and thumb,

yolk and tip fingering each other -

tender now, most tender.

          And the nerves band into one

          ascension, out to spring.

(c)Sofia M. Starnes     2008

from Corpus Homini

Wings Press, San Antonio, TX