I lie horizontal
eyes fixed on the blinding sun,
sparks of needly pain spread across my scalp,
they follow the pathways of my nerves
And remember:
The night I became a matrix of nerves,
not body,
not muscle,
not even skin
in this sharp wiry sting,
Whilst breathing, (never have I understood lamaze breathing more)
In, out, in, out, in to calm, out to relieve,
Calm, relieve, calm, relieve
Here in the throbbing spindles that run like tiny branches up my hairline,
I find that I am alive, actually
I close my eyes, go inward to beckon her,
She’s a tigress who comes through every time and I need her now the most,
As I rock, pace, breath, to live in the stabbing, slicing pain–
Out of nowhere, she roars,
I roar, grunt loudly
It is here in the darkness, in the pacing
That I see my true north: a live oak, she’s full
Full of long, sturdy branches, a trunk that has withstood many windstorms and this
This is just one more, she reminds me, just one more.
This one leaves a mark, one I will run my fingers over for many years to come
One which will remind me daily of my fighting tigress, my outer oak,
My true north.
