Caim (Circle of Protection)

I stand and point
    down, toward the floor
and I breathe.

Beginning here, a birth of
    air and light
and I move. 

The circle widens
    as I follow the sun
clockwise and in harmony.

I stumble and pause
    afraid - to keep moving 
or to stay still. How will I know?

Unbroken, I move again
    and the line is drawn
clarity for what lies within and without.

Life in motion and
    the lines blur:
the safe must be released, the foreign embraced. 

"Look for the helpers."
    An unbidden guest offers consolation
with a soft gaze:

he, long-forgotten
    and no longer hoped for
bears my Sisyphean stone.

The circle, incomplete, though enough - 
    wobbles as I,
but my protector does not. 

Back to where all good journeys start,
    a fully-formed cycle is
complete and I breathe. 

This poem is part of the Thirty Days of Poetry in April; the prompt is to use an action that you do only sometimes (in this case I chose praying a Caim Circle of Protection) as a metaphor for your life.

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