like a field of sunflowers
a person bursting forth re-alived.
Like you touching me in places unnoticed.
How could you know?
Tell me. How did you know
the slightest place, a word, your height, your hair
cracks this egg?
When we are resurrected, it follows a shape
not unlike angels, they say,
but there is always a sense of doing that
for the first time, the only time in all of history
like when a butterfly becomes its tiny self
or a now mother gives birth
it is always the first time,
but I come back here again and again wondering
how this other world of mind and closeness to God
can last through it all
how it is always here
how i can’t say it enough
how i forget and regret
leaving the forever place
it sends me to the far ends of the fields- gathering for the hungry- to the four corners of this world- it sends me far away
until you return
to me and
the inside of the egg
how I was just a shell
seeing the inside of the womb.