My Cupped Hands

Since beginning work on myself I often draw naturally, unconsciously into a position: arms slightly extended to my sides, rounded as in a broad embrace, hands relaxed, palms up, fingers slightly separated, open to the universe.

This I shared with my daughter today - a way to open her body, release her anger and overwhelming feelings, receive positive energy from allah, or god, or the universe - whatever she would like to call the Creative that cares for us. "Thats strange" she said, unconvinced.

In this position of embrace my palms have evolved, or have they always been? Sensitive receptors to energy, emotions, lightly picking up insights, gentle answers; small things that help others mostly, but also myself. Understandings for good, never of evil.

Since beginning work on compassion, my hands are more often cupped together before me - without thought, without intention - a gesture of supplication and of asking probably picked up when at mosque years ago. Into these cupped hands insights drop and wisdom pools. Not that I can always decipher meaning, but I feel the warmth or the coolness, attended by a peaceful awareness of truth. 

Since knowing him, my cupped palms have collected more active knowledge, communicated with louder physical sensation. Exacto blades jabbed in scattered pattern, flashing silver as they stood pierced upright into my flesh: knowing, knowing...  I know whom he is with one day, or what he is feeling. I know his truth even within his confusion. I don't know him very well, but I know him intimately. He is my Shams, I would whisper, if sun were in fact moon - but I suspect I am his. 

multiple blades that pierce my

palms fuse as crucifix nails one
to each hand: the lotus blooms,
a tattoo to you, my art, my
compassionate sacrifice.