Leah Moss

Tag: love

  • Mother.

    The moment between life and death.

    When blood slows.

    When the lungs deflate.

    When the heart quiets.

    When the mind soothes.

    There is no time in this moment, as she greets us and holds us while we settle. We are not dead yet. We are not alive either. This moment, is held for as long we need.

    She is quiet, gentle. Her presence warms as ours cools and moves back into her while we gestate until another life springs forth. Our memories, our blood, flows to our loved ones. Those whose tears are the overflow of our energies as they wave from our body to their memories only. Our mannerisms are seen in glimpses of their looks, their skin, their behavior, as they dance from knowing both us and themselves.

    She smiles. I ask how long I can be here, how long I can stay in this peace. She replies that time is irrelevant now. The circles of our cells spin in every direction, as they glide all around.

    I watch, from outside, as those gathered hold their breaths, waiting for mine to start again; their restart is forced out with a cry. They touch my hands, and I yearn for the grasp.

    She holds mine instead, gently, for a grasp hurries the process of dissipation.

    Everything is silent, and begins to feel warmer as the light fades. I can no longer see, but I can feel again. I tuck myself into the warmth. The water and air feel cool, and I reach out to feel more of it. The electricity within me is creating a heat too intense to hold. As I reach out, my hand no longer feels anything but a slight breeze. I am curious. Slowly, I move my head toward my hand, and push through the last part of what was warm but is now cool to the touch. I burst out, and feel warmth again, immediately.

    I feel everything.

  • Portals

    There is a giant black hole in the center of our galaxy. Itʼs the thing that keeps us in a spiral, swinging from eagerly wanting to jump in like itʼs a waterslide, while also feeling the weight of our own existence. More than a billion lightyears ago, a collision of two such black holes sent out invisible waves headed right toward our terrestrial planet. They were so powerful, they rippled spacetime.

    There is an opening ahead of me. Itʼs dark, I canʼt fully see what it is. I keep walking toward it, curious, knowing that there is something there. Along the way, there are so many other thresholds I cross, unaware of how many until I look back and see infinity.

    I turn around, and the threshold is gone. I look back – did I walk through it already? Itʼs not there, either, and the rest of them are gone, too.

    My head spins around, up and down, frantically searching for this portal. It was too important; I needed to get through that. Where did it go? I have to find it again.

    I begin to run, then slow to a walk, and start to change directions. But I canʼt tell which direction is which. Disoriented, I close my eyes, and feel for the ripples. Which direction are they coming from?

    The answer is every direction. They bounce into each other throughout me, so that direction is completely obliterated and all I can feel is the gentle wave created within. I feel nauseous. I search for my feet, the back of my knees, my inner thigh. I sense tingles in the middle of the palm of my hand, and the crook of my elbow. The middle of my ribcage reverberates, and reaches the top of my spine. My cheekbones soften, and my ears open.

    There are small, previously imperceptible portals positioned everywhere in my body. I learn that I can control them, somewhat. I can open and close them, and most of them have been closed and blocked by debris. I slowly open them as the frequencies reach them, clearing out debris, following the paths of colorful shapes and sparkling flecks that are sucked through and fall to other places. They produce both an intense heat and a chilling freeze as they open.

    I stay, unmoving, and find that I am hurtling through everything, everywhere, all at once. The wind is fast, but also gentle, the temperatures change, my body turns from grains of sand to slimy blob, liquidating and solidifying, feeling like both cacti and moss, air and fire.

    I see a light through my closed eyelids. Itʼs getting brighter, so I know that I am getting closer to it. I am not afraid, and soon the bright white light is all around me.

    It feels like everything and nothing. It feels like someone is hugging every single atom of my body. It feels like a cool breeze on a hot day. It feels like a smile exchanged with a stranger. It feels like a snuggle with my children. It feels like crying with a neighbor. It feels like finishing a project I put so much work into and now get to enjoy it. Drinking the first sip of the best coffee. Catching a glance of acknowledgement and appreciation. Digging in rich soil. Swinging at a park. Climbing a mountain. A hand raked in my hair with a slow kiss. Watching fire flicker and water undulate. Feeling the moon, and the edges of stars.

    The enchantment waves and wanes.

    After a while, I open my eyes. And realize that the portal was me all along.