The Brevity of Oneness

I’ve been thinking a lot about the connection, and disconnection of our bodies and spirits. This poem further explores this thought; writing this poem really expanded my mind past the bounds of societal constraints on human anatomy, and into the realm of spiritual curiosity in relation to my earth-standing self.

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The Brevity of Oneness

by Regan Smith

• • •

I know that my soul is separate
from my body,
for there are times where my body continues
to move, continues to breathe

but my soul is three steps removed,
overlooking this body
from a bird’s eye view.

It controls this drone of
legs and arms and eyes
moving it’s gaze from
left to right,
to smile at a stranger,
and the footing’s next step

but my feelings are
locked and sprouted within this soul,
detached
from the bones and muscles.

I wonder if my body
and soul will every marry,
for they’ve been separate for
quite some time,
allowing the brevity of oneness,
for the duration of a dance,
for my mother’s embrace,
for the exhilarating
jump from plane high–
temporarily united
as we soar through air,
falling through clouds,
occupying the space
that’s only meant for
the amakihi,
the white-tailed tropicbird,
the golden plover.

My body gets bathed,
but my soul can still hold shame.

My spirit can be filled,
and overflowing,
yet the peach figure I see,
is in languish with night
still ringing around her eyes.

And I know that my body,
will fall to the earth,
decompose and wrap itself with
the roots,

but my soul will soar,
for it has shed its weight,
and reunited with the
totality of eternity.

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Photography by Farrah Emami.

That Consistent Question

Writing without rules or constraints from even punctuation, this way of the pen offers a clear channel from mind to paper, without any hinderances. This stream of consciousness uncovers my vocation.

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That Consistent Question

By Regan Smith

• • •

I pose the question that I’ve asked my mirror reflection for the past decade am I happy with what I have become when I was sixteen I whispered in the night that I wouldn’t make my twenty-first birthday due to the death of my own hand whether that was an overdose of substance or overdose of the absence of food or the overdose of dark thoughts causing my own undoing but I am standing here strong and tall learning each day to love the bones and body I was born into knowing that I was created for a purpose with this moment held sacred and close to my heart and I can say with confidence that I’m happy with what I have become a life alive with breathing lungs that lose breath from laughter with arms that hold those I love and a voice that declares freedom and breakthrough and words that I can share with another sixteen year old girl that whispers to herself in the night

When My Heart Awakens

January 15, 2018

I woke this morning a little after 3 AM. I scrolled through photos, scripture, and sheep in attempts to resume my slumber. I felt a gentle tug to part from my bed and to begin writing, editing, learning. 

After scooping up my dachshund-min pin mix, I circled up our metal-spiral stairs. Much to my surprise, my lively eyes traced the trails of unbroken language, spoken to paper. I wrote until the morning was nursed into maturity. Here is a small passage, that I softly share with you, reader:

When My Heart Awakens

It’s exquisite. 
It’s unique. 

Obedience opens the doors to a productivity phenomenon,  
an all-awake and oh-so-alive euphoria. 

I was able to witness the darkness turn to light—
epitomized by these pages, 
this window pane. 

Outstretched shapes silhouetted the sky, 
the sun began to leisurely rise. 

The clouds are purple now, dusted with grey. 
A glow, growing richer, deeper, warmer. 

Beneath, 
the bare sky, 
screams its shine. 

I swell in spirit, 
as the fierce and fiery light anoints these pages. 

Apricot beams radiate into my art room, 
and moments later, 
entirely illuminates the ambience.