The Taste of Truth

Paul Reynolds — Mon, 02 Aug 2010 03:24:33 +0000

Reading at Anara practice 08/01/2010

For the moment/ I’ve stopped struggling.
The undertow tugs at my clothes/ and the
current takes me where it will. Surrender
sounds like defeat/ but this tastes like
victory/ the sweet release into something
open/ empty/ yet complete.
My heart speaks/ instructing me to relinquish all
control, I close my eyes/ and see myself
dissolving while remaining whole.
When/ at last/1 am delivered gasping to
the shore, I know it was the letting go
that brought me home. I was saved
not by my strength/ but by daring to
be vulnerable and weightless/ choosing
not to hold onto any of the debris that
floated past me. Truth tastes salty/ like
tears/ or the wind-whipped spray torn
from the froth of breakers. Truth tastes
like drowning/ feels like being spit out
of the belly of the whale to stand inside
a larger footprint on the sand.

—Danna Faulds

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The Taste of Truth

Paul Reynolds — Fri, 12 Jun 2009 20:32:51 +0000

For the moment, I’ve stopped struggling.
The undertow tugs at my clothes/ and the current takes me where it will. Surrender sounds like defeat, but this tastes like victory, the sweet release into something open, empty, yet complete.
My heartspeaks, instructing me to relinquish all control. I close my eyes, and see myself dissolving while remaining whole.
When, at last, I am delivered gasping to
the shore, I know it was the letting go
that brought me home. I was saved
not by my strength, but by daring to
be vulnerable and weightless, choosing
not to hold onto any of the debris that
floated past me. Truth tastes salty, like
tears, or the wind-whipped spray torn
from the froth of breakers. Truth tastes
like drowning, feels like being spit out
of the belly of the whale to stand inside
a larger footprint on the sand.

—Danna Faulds

Share and Enjoy:

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The Taste of Truth

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