She stares silently
into the vast belly of
Blue and bold she stands,
arms raised skyward ….
face fierce with unfathomable
Mother as Kali……
She has a voice…..
she is not afraid of
the Wild, Wise Feminine.
I searched in the undergrowth of
dark, mysterious woods to find you…..
I called you by name – ‘David’.
You were the ethereal being who
championed my cause and
showed me the way to freedom’s path….
I heard your voice in the wind at night
like a whistling of trees when the skies
are fit to burst over a high summer night.
The moon dripped wax upon the clouds
creating wispy spectres in the trees.
Shapesifting in the changing light,
the owls took forms of Puck & Oberon
whispering within the racket of the vibrant forest floor….
I longed for you David, my paramour in the unseen world….
I searched for you and the wheels still turn…
I know you are there….. I hear your voice….
Lover of the Forest Wild.
Undulating vocal folds from flowing air
dancing out into a needy, broken world, sounding.
The reeds by the river sway with the winds of the world, singing.
The world is full of sounds breathed from the breath of Life,
and of Death…… We are fashioned of Vibration and Bodacious Song.
Clock’s ticking now while in the day the sounds of life drown clock’s voice away. The vibes of things humming now it’s night. The cars all gone as darkness comes winging its shadowy flight. While others sleep in hollows of mysterious lands, at least one soul is toiling, thinking, searching while this revolving world spins right around its never ceasing span.
What shall I do with the rest of my little life?
It elludes me –
frustrates the juices in my belly
and keeps me in the stench of struggle.
Am I STILL stuck in the birth canal?
Perhaps the creative seeds need a voice,
finally vibrating them out into the field of life.
Screaming is not very beautiful
but sometimes it is the only embodied voice available
when the fiscal appears more essential than the essence of soul.
It’s not that the ticking of the clock, that beats down the door to my ears, just to be heard by me. It’s that this steady, warm, heart beat in the room only sounds like it does, calm and round and steady, when all is still at night and only my breath moves the air. The electrical storm in my head becomes audible as I listen with awareness, as computer, lights, appliances all vibrate to form the soundweave of 21stC existence;
Once upon a time I could sit beside my father and hear the woodworm eating a chair. I could lie in the clover patch and hear the Plovers overhead telling me where to find the four leaf specimens….. now there is little of that in our external world….
I find the four leaf clovers in me. I hear the mastication of ideas in my mind and I resolve to live and go on living, before it’s all too late.