Month: November 2017

Before Me Now

I wonder who I was before me, now?

What if I’d been a tree before I was a human

Or a decomposing leaf

Or I was the tree, the leaf, the rabbit that rummaged amongst the fallen leaves and the soil on the rabbits paw

What if I was the field that the rabbit dreamed of

Every blade of grass and dandelion

Or the roots of a weed

Or the bacteria that lives on the root

Or the worm that travels underground

What if I was the bird that ate the worm and so food that feeds her babies, could have been me too

Or the dirt in her nest or the twigs she collects

What if I was the shell on the beach that breaks when stepped on or the blood that trickles into the sand

Or the sand itself or the seabed

Or the crab or the jellyfish

Or the seaweed that dances on the surface

Or the salt in the sea

What if I was the pepper ground to a powder

Or the potato cooked to perfection or the metal of the fork before it was moulded

What if I’d once lived in the intestine of a whale

Or a shark or even the creatures we now find in fossils

What if I’d once lived on a meteorite which plummeted to this planet

What id I’d been every colour of the galaxy

Or a spark in the big bang, present at the start of beginnings

And endings

Recycled over and over until I got to be here

What if I’m ancient and my soul is so old I’ll never remember exactly where I came from

Or know where I’m going

What if I grew out of nothing and thats where I’m headed

Or I’m the smallest of everything floating within the infinite of nothing

I wonder who I was before me, now?

 

No Longer Asking

 

Spirit, lead me someplace to find you

I ask them to make themselves heard

And make it bright, with flames I’ll see in the mist

I waited, for a day or two

Their response I’d so clearly plotted

To which I believed they’d ignored

I prayed to the moon

Clasped within a wishbone cage

“Am I to ask you instead?”

Sunk are my pleas as I notice nothing

So I tug at myself, limbs that entwine senses

I must find a place to curl into these wonders

Surely the fineness of these landscapes know something?

And with broken tissue, I fight on

Nothing came

But soreness, buried

How am I to know the order of this chaos?

The beginnings of inquisition, I cannot remember

But I do remember answers, logical

Yet still the questions poured

And deeper I clawed

But the crawling, it hurt

So I cry to the clouds

“You impersonal temptress!”

Enough is enough

I’m too tired for this precision

Instead, thank you and goodbye

For your love is swollen

And I’ve no time

Thinking time is all I have to waste

But darn it, it was me

Holding on for instruction

And I am bursting at the seams with knowing

Harnessing needs

Silencing birth pains

And thank god, spirit transcends suffocation

I asked for forgiveness, for the blaming and taming

But not before my cells resonate

With the unfolding of bestowed blessings

Mastery in motion

To see myself as that

In the dirt, with blood on my knees

And pimpled skin and bones that ache from dancing in the dark

Brilliance is what I am

I am the perceiver of every sign I need

And I’ll dance as one

With those I’d once requested reassurance

No longer asking

But thankful to know already.

 

Wild Opals

I saw you

Above the tiles that promised to keep out the rain

Your eyes were opal, that’s how I remembered them

And the sun was always setting but your hair was more golden than the light

I sat crossed legged

Like a child waiting to hear a fairytale

Your nails were short

But not bitten, you had been working on the land

And your fingers were stained by the soil

Or the cigarettes you used to smoke

You told me smoking was bad for your health

I assumed you stopped, you never told me you had

And we were there

Saying very little to each other but then we never did speak much

My joints loosened as you spoke and your rhythm pulsed within me

Your voice

Still, those whispers caught in the tide

Are your way

Go North you told me

Catch the red berries

Place them on the ground around your shivering body

Breathe into your cold palms

And let your warmth remind you

That you are enough

I called you a witch

Because I couldn’t pen you down

You were defiant against description

Beyond the madness of sanity

I was haunted by you

And as I prayed to understand you

Your craft I wished to home

I was gifted with an empty note

And a furious breeze

That beckoned towards the northern sea

Keep moving, I hear

Don’t stiffen with the wanting

As then you’d be like those

And I, I hear

Have become, already.