I stand before a blank sheet of paper
paints and brushes at my side
drum music playing
a heartbeat broadcast across the room.
Sun streams out my studio and
down the rain spout
with details
of 'Donna-ness'.
There’s only the paint,
the pulse of the music
and the brush in my hand.
The dance begins.
Yellow spirals down the white surface
like light flung in a rollercoaster.
This is not seriousness.
This is about allowing yellow to have its fill.
Now it fizzles to airy ribbons
and I dip my brush
into red.
Passion bloops all over memories of light
...and suddenly I’m cast back to the womb.
I look through amniotic fluid at a faint glimmer
easily blotted out by the red
of my mother’s blood.
There is only pure being,
the sense of my hands and feet moving
through warmth.
And again I dip my brush,
this time into melted robin’s eggs. Blue swirls into red.
Male cups female;
hope making footprints across the viscera
of the eternal.
It is You
who whirls my brush across the surface.
I am held in your embrace, my eyes closed to our trajectory .
There is only Your breath flowing through me,
pleasure touching the infant
and the woman.
I put down my brush,
my paper filled with dollops of running, bleeding
colors. The paper crinkles with wet
applied to wet.
I’m the observer,
curious at what might have happened while I’ve been gone.
And I see it,
a purple spiral emerging from beneath layers of markings.
This is the map of our drunken dance and the corkscrew
of altered DNA that calls me into new life.
I know now that
amidst splatters of paint, I’ve been
reborn.
__________________________
by James Fadiman and Robert Frager,
(San Francisco, Harper One, 1997):
"I hold you in my heart.
I rock and sing you to sleep.
You are everywhere in everyone,
The holy baby in all of us,
That plays there.
The beautiful one,
Born when we love
The glowing child.
You are the meaning that blooms in the heart."
