Where Is My Spirit?

Training and interning beginning next week so until then, more people and poetry apparently...


Where is my spirit?

Is it running through my veins;

            Pumped by my heart?

                        …Does it trickle out and enter the world when I’m wounded?

Where is my soul?

Is it in my brain?

            Does it relate more to math or to dance?

                        What then does it do when I can’t equate, or can’t keep time –

                                    when sense just doesn’t make sense?

Is it in my eyes

            that label you;

                        create you;

                                    admire you;

                                                distort and destroy you?

If so, can my spirit see yours when we gaze

                        face to face,

                        eye for eye,

                        other to other?

            If so, how could a blind child see so clearly the souls she greets?

Where is your spirit?

Is it in your fingers;

            the same ones that wrap themselves so warmly in between mine;

            the same ones that hold the spark and pull the trigger?

Is your spirit in your arms,

            that knead the dough you bake,

                        the bread you break,

                        the life you pass,

to me…

            …A piece of your life, feeding mine.

How about our mouths?

            Do our spirits twist around in our tongues?

                        To bless,

or poison.

                        When we share a kiss,

                                    do our spirits align?

                        When we exchange words of hate,

                                    do our spirits align?

                                                                        Or is the tongue,

            the lips,

            a smile;

            just skin,

            just organ?

            Are we just organs?

Our feet.

How about our feet?

            Does the spirit lead the body,

                                    Or does it merely follow, trapped?

            They are inseparable friends, intimate lovers, clashing enemies;

                        Bound and conflicted –

                                    not fully one – yet united.

                                                Married, committed, struggling.

The spirit is willing, but the flesh…

                        …it is so weak…

–      Yet,

so strong –

                                                enough to change the world…

                                                for better,

                                                            or for worse.

When my hand strikes your cheek,

            Do I miss your soul?

                                    Where does it end and flesh begin?

            We embrace a piece of God with one touch,

                                    and deny him with the next.

We feed one another –

            – our harvest is for body and soul:

            consuming and producing

                                    life.

                                    …Connect,

                                                for you are connected;

                                                            for better,

                                                                        or for worse.

                                                We are connected;

                                                            for better,

                                                                        or for worse.

Your spirit gives and takes, builds and destroys;

            with your heart,

            with your thoughts,

            with your eyes,

            with your work,

            your touch,

            your lips,

            ears,

            feet,

                                                            Etc.

Let it live,

let it give.

Find,

and use,

your soul;

for better,

or for worse...






                          ...?










- C