Cacooned

Cocooned
oil painting on canvas

original poem written to accompany the painting:


Cocooned
Once we were all safe
in the cocoon of mother’s womb.
Is this why the shelter
of this narrow valley
- this desert wadi -
feels like a soul hug?

The chaos spins far above

carrying its storm across the rim,

forming a smooth gray dome like

the low-hanging ceiling

of the Roman catacombs,

where my ancestors in faith

hid from the violent rage of Babylon.

Or is it the cool embrace

of clear water wrapping around

my ankles and toes bringing

my blood pressure down, and

washing the tension away?

Or maybe all of that

is merely the backdrop

to the God-man I lean on,

the most beautifully-captivating

source of all life

who has called me by name

and has become my salvation?

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