Cracked Open

And it cracked me open, being there

Amid the field of what was once sowed, 

now, chillingly dormant 

In the middle of it all, seeing clearly,

(if only momentarily,)

That all I needed was that moment--

 and it sustained me; 

fed me, yet cleansed me, and claimed me,  

as if a spirit ran toward me 

and screaming--- it shook me

 
And froze me for the moment.  
In that moment everything was. 
And in that moment,

 I was.  

I am now. 

And I lingered there again.

In the field; in the sticky cold mud
surrounded in patches of carve-able snow 
amid stirring and anxious seeds 
amid flesh from life returned,  
from the cauldron of birth and decay.

In the field among unheard stones 
and creeping keepers of their own sacred work.  

Knowing without trepidation or question,
for they had done that already so long long ago.
In the field I saw my tracks
to where my toes still are 
and gazed before me 
to pristine trail not tread on...  
An empty canvas; an unadorned sheet 
waiting for my feet...  
I looked below to find counsel 
and above for approval and blessing.  
The worms spoke; the rain washed over me,
and behind me erased my every step 
and at first I was aghast and choked.  
My eyes wouldn\'t close 
and so I cried with the rain. 
I knew I should have moved 
and instead I didn\'t. 
So there I withered, died 
and was reborn in the field.  
In the dark I reached out 
and found the sun.  
Freeing the entombed and untouched 
from that earthen clutch.  
In the field I had been stopped.  
Or finally dropped.  
(!)