There is a mechanism by which I change, by which I’ve moved, but you have not. Yet it all lives in a divine will. A process by which a peony blooms, unfolds in the same way a mind is opened. By which tissues soften, nervous system settles, and I gaze up towards the sun or moon and feel my perfect smallness in the way of things. Feel my growth in your unchanging gaze. Waking, I find myself different, there is a joy that covers me, new clothes I’m not sure how to fit into, and yet they do. A new life, a wide open embrace. I pray, “I am so happy.” Ten minutes after fear. Back and forth, life is no longer all of one or the other. I sit in the movement of the wind, stand on the rock, not shaken, but tender. I’m alive, therefore, in delight so much more of the time. Orthodox yet open. No longer ridged faith, I see who used to be “other” and now they are friend and brother. This is love without fear. This is a constant God and becoming who I never expected to be. Thick, albeit resplendent, rope wrapped around my shoulders. No noose, just stuck mild suffocation. Serpent around your chest— attractive, unseen bondage whispers in your ear so often you thought it was your own voice. It loses its power as you look in the eye, face it with all your courage. Some pieces fall off, but you are left with still shallow breath. I need a hand to come, as in a dream, as in spirit, to untie and unleash the butterfly in my chest, the hummingbird with buzzing wings pushed through space with the wind in wonder. A curiosity to taste and see. It is the hand I accept in mystery, that faith touches with unseen security. I stand on a rock and I fly. I am free, bare feet on cold steady ground, scapula sky-high.