Poring Out

O lament,

O depression,

O torment!

Which pore of this frame

is not oozing

tears of loss,

sweat of overwhelm,

puss of anxiety,

vomit of grief?

Which pore of this frame

is not passing

blood gone cold,

breast milk turned sour

lymph clogged by waste?

Which pore

Is clear?

Find it!

That I might breathe

deeply;

if only

by a single pore.

May I find

in one pore

clear passage

to my soul’s

Comforter

Search

my whole skin

each hair

on my head

for that

one pore

Perhaps

not out;

but in.

Pursue

each organ,

every line of

nerve,

the full length

of my vessels.

It exists!

One Pore.

I feel —

knowing not

where it is.

It searched me

It pursued me

Before I even

Began

The Air

through

That Pore,

Breathes Me.

Breathes — I AM

Breathes — peace

Breathes — hope

Breathes — love

Breathes — courage

Breathes — trust

Breathes — LIFE