I GAZE UPON THE EARTH
I gaze upon the earth from which I was drawn,
pulled head first into life,
my marrow sucked through roots and branches,
my blood siphoned from the sea,
my voice sliced from the coyote’s cry.
Given form, then loosened to find my way,
a nomad, I wandered the labyrinth of life,
not knowing, unknowing, ignorant,
I roamed, confusion in my wake,
until bone rattled, I learned to dance.
White goddess gains confidence and boldly steps
through midnight curtains, splendid, proud and unflappable.
Majestic, you arrive to survey your nocturnal kingdom,
unblinking moon eye beams down silver light
across harvested fields littered with pumpkins and corn.
My virgin sister, cool goddess of the night, Serene,
clouds hover round the corners of your mouth
as a young poet plays his flute and you float down the starry Way.
Your royal barge makes no waves in the cosmic ocean of my dreams.
Will you visit me tonight while I lay alone in the narrow bed of age?
Will you kiss my lips as once you did when I was lush
and fruit-ready, my womb wet with life?
I count the stars as they arrive singly and in pairs
until night’s ballroom moves in the ancient dance.