A Poem: The Sweet Spot

I have a sweet spot.
It’s in the centre of a poem,
threads coming together
in the mystery of unfolding.

There’s the wait,
breath in and breath out,
an awareness like antennae
combing the airwaves.

Its like standing on a precipice,
the edge before the jump,
where the winds meet.
It’s like being in prayer.

And the free fall,
a plunge with the heart wide open,
like a parachute taking us slow
across a valley.

We each have our sweet spots,
in the centre of the mystery,
giving us a glimpse to make
the breath inhale,

and then release of
the long out breath –
like making love.
Yes, we all have our thing,

in which the particles in us shiver to life.
The place in which all of life is,
for a moment,
held suspended.

And we then both succumb,
and dive in,
stand tall and astride,
abit like a surfer catching the crest of the wave.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
November 2019

4 thoughts on “A Poem: The Sweet Spot

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