There Is A Hug

There is a hug
so ancient and round,
so empty and deep it has
no name, a hug that absolved
the moon and stars before creation,
a hug that encircled you
before you were conceived,
when the whisper of your soul
had not been spoken.
A hug that clasped your form
when mountains were inside wind
and wind was the sap in a pine,
and the blues of the sky
had not gleamed from your pupils,
and the sun had not yet
burst its golden seed in your heart.
Why have you forgotten
to hug yourself this way?
Why do you shrink from the honey
that was already poured
before your cells
were shaped to contain it?

Don't you know that you cannot

embrace another

until you hug each
centerless electron

of your own flesh?
Sink into the sweet dark well
of your body,
the abyss of never having needed
to be forgiven.

You think this is foolish?

It's what angels fell here to feel.

Run into the back yard
this very moment,
whatever the weather may be.

Immerse in the sting of wet grass.

Spread your arms and

hug the horizon.
Hug whatever happens
from sunrise til the burgundy rim
of tomorrow.

Carry the earth 

like a newborn child.