Linda Eve Diamond

THE HUMAN EXPERIENCE
 

By Linda Eve Diamond 

 

How odd it is to be sitting in traffic
when only yesterday I danced among stars.
And you, who used to draw the faces of the moon
sit in a small room, crouched over a desk.

Time here is rigid—no turning back
along the endless plane.
So a mind rebels against presence
cruising back and forward on its own.

This body is a funny thing.
Walking water balloon
filled with blood and bones
hormones and pheromones
all the standard moving parts
—and the incarnation of a soul.

We have two eyes and two ears
all forward focused.
Why not one eye looking out back,
an ear turned toward the Earth or sky?

Maybe it would feel more spacious in here 
if we had more points of view
or could hear thoughts at a greater distance
from our own heads.

Even the knees and elbows seem single minded.
I think they’d be more interesting 
if they’d swing both ways.

But we like direction.
Like time we’re moving forward, marching on
as communication drips through the funnel of words
where so very much is lost.

Pain makes me wish for thicker skin
but then I would feel claustrophobic
too far from my own nerve endings,
too far from touch, too far from you.

Though I know pain is nothing
next to the taste of a kiss
or the lover’s touch.
These are the gifts of the human experience
unparalleled in the universe.

I adore your funny costume
and the light behind your eyes feels like home.
I want to sit in traffic with you
hold your hand through this world
dance with you—the way I danced with Orion. 


©2007 Linda Eve Diamond, The Human Experience