Bliss

Do you think if we look hard enough,
under rock, leaf, and root,
we could find it
before life sounds again?

Do you think it waits for us,
immersed in the creek bed,
in the muck and smut of it all,
beneath our noses,
between our toes?
Could we dig it up,
plunge our forearms deep
into the soils of Earth
and uncover its birthplace,
pull the answers out from her bloated belly?
I am certain I have seen her horizon rise high
and sink low
and feel her sigh into my ear,
and I think it is there,
in the breath of her?
Or maybe where we crawled 
into her caves,
curled around the fire,
entangling ourselves in smoke and flame
inside the exoneration and surrender,
the sweet, dry, and sheltered
assurance.

Tell me, where did we hide it?
When did we leave it?

All Rights Reserved: Elizabeth Bohlander Wilson