Here

This is what it feels like to be held
Swaying this way and that
Suspended between trees—
The contours of my body
Surrounded by soft nylon.
Listen as the nearby river runs,
And the birds chatter endlessly to one another.
Without the noise or demands
Of human-made machines,
Everything crystallizes into presence,
Which is what we are made for—
To be as all life is made to be:
Simply, and oh so inconceivably,
Here.  

There was a moment in that silence
When invitation sunk deep into the heart
For a moment, pressure vanished
And all there was, was here.