Wrenching Designs Poem by Edith Niemeyer

WRENCHINGS' DESIGNS

Awaits Awakening

Six feet under—

not earth.

Not endings'
final measure.

Under.

Standing.

An understanding
encased
beneath seeings'
ordinary eye.

Thoughts buried
not because
they died—

but because
we had yet
to arrive.

Silence kept them.

Pressed them
against
her doorstep...

where wrenchings'
designs
etched their jags
into just be's.

No map.

No markings
saying—

THIS WAY.

Only a doorway.

Or...

perhaps
a stepway.

We all must
enter.

Yet who carries
the key?

👀

A hand reaches.

One turn(s) ...

an opener.

But the door
does not open
to let us
in.

It opens
to let
what has always
been within—

out.

Implosion...

becomes

✨️ explosion. ✨️

And somewhere
betwixt
the wrenching
and its release,

awareness
recognizes
what silence
could never
name.

Self.

Not found.

Not given.

Not newly
made.

Simply—

ENTERED.

And there
rests
the turn
we searched
outside ourselves
to find:

ENTERED
becomes
the key.

Six feet under
was never
how deeply
Self was buried.

It was how deeply
we were willing

to go

before
understanding
stood—

✨️ AWAKENED. ✨️


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✨️Work in progress ✨️