This bone reached the end of its life before the rest of me.  And everything around it in the dark interior was aware; they’d seen the cartilage slowly crushed out of existence, the nerves caught between bones, the rim of the pelvis distorting.  They felt, before I did, my body lurching.

And for years they tried to help.

Now everyone can go back to normal.  And start to welcome the titanium stranger.

Hipbone, older than my own mind!  You formed with me in the womb.  There was a time, around week 25, when you were near my mouth.  We were swirled in there, and I was curled to you.

We came out into the bright world together.  The antibodies in your marrow kept me safe.  You took a pounding when I was a goalie diving.  I blame you for my lack of dancing ability.  And it was you who whispered the right words to me when I knelt to propose.

There was always a connection between the flick of my eyes scanning and the marrow flowing; between the marrow flowing and my saliva forming.

It was sad when you wore down.  The team immediately felt it, and I, the greater good, felt it, became limited.  It was poignant to know that genetic destiny rotted you from within, that inner weather had carved you, beautiful but paper-thin.

Yesterday, we sat by a calm pond.  For a while I took you on my lap.  We watched two Canadian geese glide through thick silver water.  Sun on the bare trees, the reeds.  I know you don’t want to leave.  I’m sorry.  But I can’t put you before me anymore.  I can’t sacrifice my knee, all the way on the other side of my body!  I have to protect my lower back, from itself.  They would all keep carrying you, till they gave out too.

Remember that pond, and the brook flowing out of it.  Just like that you’ll flow away.  Rest, don’t try to make the medical waste walk.  Just rest with all the loyal servants.  And realize: new thing, you are intact!  Meanwhile, the greater good lives on, the greater good walks on, faster and painlessly!

“You have returned within me my soul with compassion; abundant is your faithfulness.”

Because it’s not a given.

At times the dream blazes, and I can’t turn away.

But for most of the night, I shrink and withdraw, go off to hibernate in some wrinkle, or deep down near the thalamus.  The last of me.

Now the heartbeat dominates and breathing emerges.  This is the time of the body.  Of cells that can work in peace, like the great upwelling of plankton each night.

I was not at my best today–lashed out, was a bully.  And on the worst days of my life, when I crossed the line—still you restored my soul in the morning.

If there was punishment, it took other forms.

Each night, I’m reduced to a single spark, and you watch over me and keep me alive.

And you do this for billions of us.  Shelter us.  Till the sun gets closer, then rises; the light spreads…

And you guide the return of personality across the brain.

You do this for my wife.  She sleeps, wrapped in the comforter, with one hand protecting her face.  You’ve always seen fit to continue her in all her details and give her the gift of the day. Thank you.

With someone else, the exception proves the rule.

One morning you did not restore my mother to her bed-ridden body, to that jewel box of dissolving skin.  There was no transition, no opening of the eyes, no separation.  Just warmth and enclosure, her cheek against your hand.

I need more time with you.  Reincarnation after reincarnation.  Please.

Please give me the awareness to compress this healthy fear into each day.  You are the ultimate blessing. 

When Adam would walk with God in the garden, did he take him for granted after a while?  Would his mind start to wander…? 

Yes, I’ll go about my business.  You go about yours.  But I can’t let hours slip by.  Can’t waste a night.  Or live distracted, eyes vacant, voice insincere.

I have to go toward you in the moment.

What is your mood?  What would you like to eat?

What should we do after work?  Having only scratched the surface of this city.  Dinner by the ocean, with the waves coming in.  A drink on a rooftop, thrust up into the sky—Icarus on one side, still doing well… 

Just driving down new streets, going deep in some maze open on all sides. 

A smooth ride, together in each second of the minute, each minute of the hour. 

More shared memories.  Brains somewhat fused.  Our brains, on some things, meet for a long kiss.  On others, you’re just over there, seductively half-veiled.

Please let me dig in.  Listen, say the right thing. Keep it light, the way a plant in the sun would speak.

Excitement for a very good reason.  Like those first dates, when the sense of you was dawning on me.  You, starting in my life from that point, and still expanding to this day.  I live in the onrush of spacetime…