Daylight all in white. Ice.
Leah steps outdoors in her bathrobe and slippers.
She shuffles forward. Stands. In the snow, falling like a mist.
Leah breathes in the cold humid air. Feels it refreshing, there in her nostrils.
She sings out:
"OM GAM GANAPATIYE NAMAHA!"
She chants over and over.
The red-bellied woodpecker dances on the feeder.
Then the nuthatch. Chickadees. Always the chickadees.
Leah comes back indoors.
"It looks like the Buddha has a robe on. A hat and a robe."
She says that, inhaling deeply.
She keeps feeling the warm pool awash inside.
Her core is no more
Il suo nucleo non é piú
And when Leah speaks as I do now, it is with a
whole healed voice.
E quando Leah parla come faccio ora, é con una voce