by A.M. Davis
I happened upon a dwelling. I knocked. A door on a new house. A new place.
No railroad tracks in sight. No streets with their cars.
No newscasters’ voices in the next room
inventing stories of normal. Of keeping peace.
In the raining of bombs on other peoples’
places.
This time only roads made of hoof prints
and bare feet.
I saw him once. Before a crowd. I heard him say
something so love-filled at the precise juncture of all madness.
And right then
he spoke this: “All beating hearts earth’s heart
` creatures’ hearts
the heart of all plants and ours beat from that one place.
Then he spoke of us all inventing
our humanity as our last, final, best invention
after false starts and stumbling. Spoke of us moving to stumble
` right out of our
` hopeless adolescence.
He stumbled away from the lectern and down the stairs he stumbled
and he stumbled again into the throngs as if to reiterate his point.
And with that I fell into love with the stumbling right out of our crazy
and fell
` into love of stumbling into something, it seemed, more alive
` braver more exquisite than the soft-bellied
hope of our survival.
As I grew older and I forgot the whole affair of that day
traffic sounds and audiences and his face falling toward all of ours, upturned.
Until I came to knock on that door of that dwelling beyond some woods of oaks
in that clearing with insects buzzing like tiny sirens while dancing
into a pause by my knocking noise
on that door or so I imagined. And I startled at the silence
and I startled at the answer behind the door, startled
that anyone would answer such an ancient door new to me, but ancient
none-the-less—my knocking, a formality
` from a lifetime of habit of knocking on closed doors —
And then he opened it. His eyes bright dancing his face
` dipping toward mine.
` His stumble.
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A. M. Davis was born and raised in Oakland, California. She is storyteller/poet, a speaker on behalf of the Earth. In 2007, she walked away from her job to devote her life to her creativity. Upon attending a silent meditation retreat, she found space of time in her racing mind, and discovered that she was not her thoughts. This led to daily meditation, retreats, and becoming part of the East Bay Meditation Center community. She recently discovered the Joanna Macy’s work, and the trajectory of her life finally made sense.
You can find more of her work at annmariedavis.com.