Perception and participation

how many eyes does it take

to look back at you

before you feel seen?

how many organs of perception does it take

to perceive you

before you feel… something? anything?

how many encounters

with rain and wind and rot and breath

will it take

before you feel some semblance of belonging

in this great, shared home?

eco, σπίτι, heim, 回家, acasă, ที่บ้าน, kući, evde

the utterances of home

are not bound by the human tounge

for they sing out to us from coos of great horned owl in the night

in the soft chew of detritus by orchestras of microarthripods

the erotic cackling of coyote

the exhale of the humpback as she breaches

the many names of home sing out to us

and sing through us

slithering forth as grief and praise

from the lips of those who remember

in a world that longs for our participation

an insidious sickness seeks

to reduce processes into events

some body becomes some thing

becomes some subject

becomes some object

some object stripped of autonomy, of sentience

this sickness deracinates the animate

seducing into a state of great forgetfulness

but have you ever wondered

how the raven or the woodlouse or the wax myrtle

might perceive you?

and why does reason seem to cease

at the threshold of the quantifiable?

where does quality, sensation, gnosis

-engaging the world with full sensorial vigor-

play a role in the meaning we make

and the way we relate

to those beyond the walls

to what is seen, and what is not?

often i feel seen by patterns

peeking out through crevices

in lichen-covered bark

and in weathered limestone

and in the scales of a pinecone

that become eyes if i rest my gaze just enough

if i silence the stories just enough

to believe that what i perceive is also perceiving me

in those moments, i know there is no other home

rest your gaze just enough

for everything to come alive

and feel how

in that place of expanded perception

the cloak of belonging which you have been longing

wraps you for all your days