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| Poetry |
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| Poetry |
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You, visitor in my woods, see me laying on my Mother, roots to the sky, and think "dead tree" or "so sad." Let me tell you, you are wrong. The insects that could not live in me when my sap ran have found a home in my dry wood, weave their trails upon my bark. Amidst my roots, covered in clay and dirt, live lizards, safe and warm. Though my branches don't reach as high, nests are still built upon them. My leaves that were, give comfort to the ground, and the seeds of me have been sown on the winds and grow in distant lands. I serve a purpose well beyond my supposed death. When I finally rot and fall apart, I will be the nurturer for another's seeds. I hope that your bones will someday be as blessed, that you understand death is just a passageway, and the most mighty live by their service. 6/2008 |
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I'd forgotten about sunsets, so caught in the cogs, the daily slow hour and fast headache world. But Thursday, there were deer grazing on the highway shoulder. Yesterday, the scent of lavendar won through the car exhaust. And tonight, there was a sailor's delight, flush pink sky. And I remembered sunsets. 12/2007 |
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I stretch ahead, to move forward, to beg the motion to take me on, but I know the road is broken. I stumble on my love, I stumble on emotion, I crumble by the shore. And climb again upon the rocks, reaching for more. I stretch ahead, to move forward, to beg the motion to take me on. I'm mired in my lifetime, the ebb and flow of my desire, the mirrors that forsake me as I look beyond the door. I stretch ahead, to move forward, to beg the motion to take me on, please let the flow erase me, rebuild me stronger on. I know the road is broken, let me walk the chasms further on. 12/2007, inspired by the instrumental "To Beg the Motion" by Crystalysis |
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You're only allowed to feel the cooling breeze if you hear the ocean come ashore. Find the places where the sea crawls, insinuating itself between the rocks, a shy but eager child looking for a place to rest. Find the places where the sea demands attention, chisels the stone like a sculptor so used to his work that the blows are unconscious. It's that time of day when the sky and sea are the same color, the clouds are islands, and you can't be sure you're not driving down into the sky. The stars are profuse tonight, faint and brilliant, they make a contour map of the sky. You can reach out and feel textures, touch the light cotton of the Milky Way and prick your finger on carnelian Mars. |
The striations in the stone, their roughness to the touch, make the rocks a sensual thing, neither male nor female. The very cracks in the granite make it harder, sharper, and I want to add the sweat of my fingers to the centuries' salt water, not to destroy, but to take part in its shaping. |
The line between sea and sky blurs in the fog. Beyond the jade foam and ivory spray, beyond the marble, flexing muscles of the ocean, the world drops away into cold grey chaos. This is the might of the heart of the world, thrusting fingers older than Neptune into the shore, scratching with ancient fingernails to make impressions on the back of Mother Earth making ridges in the rock marking where time will join them again and again. Here lies the birth and death of each tiny life. Here is all that remains of history. |
Inanna, Queen of Heaven, Queen of Earth. She who planted the huluppu-tree, She whose bed and throne Gilgamesh made from the huluppu-tree, Inanna, we remember you, we honor you. She who brought the sacred knowledge from Enki to her people, She who gave the ninety-four sacred me to her people, Inanna, Queen of Heaven, Queen of Earth. She who descended through the seven veils of death, She who returned from the place of no return, Inanna, we remember you, we honor you. She who loved Dumuzi, who punished and forgave Dumuzi. She who set the year in two for Geshtinanna and Dumuzi, Inanna, Queen of Heaven, Queen of Earth. |
Great Pan, Lord of the Wild, Father of beasts, we remember and honor you. We dance with you in the wood. We hear your flute in the songs of birds. O mighty Horned One, with the strength of a giant stag, we see your presence in the deer and fox, hawk and sparrow, wolf and lamb. We dance with you in the wild wood and listen to your words of prophesy. Pan, Cernunnos, Herne, Leader of the Wild Hunt, we welcome you. |
The moon shines through the winter trees. I am an owl child, hunting through the night, freed from the worries of humanity and daylight. I feel the power of the Old Ways pulsing in my blood. I am an owl child, hunting through the night. The song of the skies flows in my ears, the wind speaks and I understand, for I am descended of Wolf and Eagle, Bear and the burrowing Mole. The Badger and the Mountain Lion are my brothers. Mother, I am your child, seeking through the night. |
Hand upon my handle, my will is in control. Set the fires burning, old stories will be told. Take up your own handle, welcome to the fold. Dance under the moonlight, be joyful and bold. Wear your signs proudly, fear not in the night. Only those with wisdom have the power of true sight. Those who burn a candle will never lack the light. Always ask your questions, for knowledge is your right. |
Righteousness is not my quest, boldness not my meat. Find me here in my own space, standing on my own square feet. In upon myself, I listen to the music in life's blood's beat. Each move I make counts triple, what came before and what comes after. I breathe my ghosts in deeply, to feel my wings pulse faster. Bend my heart to the journey, bless my soul with fire. With the strength of the great wood in my veins, my spirit never tires. |
I am the owl, the night hunter, I prey on fleet-footed food. I am the crow, the teller of tales, I wake with the morning light. I am the wolf, the pack master, fierce defender of family. I am the moon itself, constant, yet ever-changing. I am the sun, who calls to growing life. I am the earth, solid and liquid, mountain and river. I am the air that is breathed, the fire that warms, destroys and creates. I am the transformation of night into day, of day into night. I am at the edge of all that is new and the memory of all that is old. I am the bridge between yesterday, today and tomorrow. I am birth and life and death, the life beyond and back again. I am the circle, the square, and the triangle. I am the five-pointed star. I am one. |
Thirteen in a circle, dancing for the goddess. Full moon shines above. |
Drum drum, howl to the moon, coyote brother. Drum drum, smell the sage, burn the cedar. Drum drum, dance the wild wind, left foot, right, again. Drum drum, sing down the sky, wolf and eagle. Drum drum, heart beats the rhythm like raven wings. Drum drum, breathe in time, whistle your song. Drum drum, hear the owl hoot. Drum drum, add your voice. Drum drum, to the night. Drum drum, the night is yours. Drum drum, take it, take it, drum drum. (8/6/99) |
Owl (by Cay) Who is not the question on the owl's voice; this end is fated. Why never enters nor when, for these choices are the power reserved by the force in the treetops, familiar with the shadows cast by the moon. |