Jean Marie Gunner

Jean Marie Gunner
We are all basically good.

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

THE MYSTERY OF MY DISAPPEARING

 

The mystery of my disappearing

Happens over time

Drawn out days

That seek the night

Turning into years and decades

A lifetime of worries, regrets, anxieties, untruths.

I seek to put this all into a place

Into an illustration of a life that can disappear

A life that can vanish

Yet still be worth the moments of magic.

The taproot of my existence

Not as myself, as she sits here with swollen eyelids this Mother’s Day

But the taproot that

Burrows itself deeply within

This earth spreading outward

In all directions

Joining with all the other taproots

Deeply embedded within the core

A meaningful, quiet core of existence

Where anger no longer sounds

And fear doesn’t have a name

In fact, it has no meaning there

Since there is no need.

The mystery of my disappearing

Is no longer a mystery at all

It has been the meaning

Of my existence
 
Since I must lose myself to become one.

 

(Written May 10, 2009 on Mother’s Day)

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