Egg

An egg

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

I remember

the inside of the egg

how I was just a shell

seeing the inside of the womb.