house

A house full of world and a

Life redirected on one road

For many to follow,

I was born able to see,

As we all are.

But my vision was plucked unknowingly.

Like a new born baby,

My eyes were circumcised.

The painnews new for a moment —

But have no recollection.


Then the figures in the house say,

"You have no proof of ever,

Your eyes having worked independently for you.

You can only see when we see the proof.

If it were so, when we circumcise the infant

we would find the scar in the heart!"


— never!


I peel back the scar, the layers in my groin,

Riding a highway up my spine.

My heart bears the flap

That closes over my soul

And flutters in the wind,

When God bellows in the bowl,

For no one else to hear.

(I sometimes hear its echo,

But now, can't hear its essence.)


Upon a Kingdom I gaze,

With blind eyes

From my perch up on this cup.

A mountain I think it be.

The life giving vapor that arises

From the warm morning milk,

My lips it never touched.


I was born with sight,

At the bottom of this cup.

So beautiful.

The water is ripe and

Pure and intended.

The smell of man lay still here.


A lifetime to regain thoughts,

Backtrack on one road

Like a dusty, desert critter

Rekindling its way

To the single desert rose.

Hold water, hold water!

Steadfast —

And bright and alert.

The sweat on my brow,

For a moment

Will quench my thirst.


Slowly regaining consciousness

Living life as all do for a while.

After being drowned in the after-dust of

Those insightful mounds

Of nothingness

Whom say they have the sight.


I'm dry without my eyes.

I beg, "Creator give me sight!"

I feel the space between you and me.

And it is a purposeful place.



Stephanie Lorentzen-Jordan

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