rant

please don’t post another picture of
sun-draped trees and rainbows
and tell me from the comfort
of your squishy couch
and smartphone screen
how you want to live
in nature.

 
when we say we want
to go out in nature every day
walk in nature
be in nature
sit in nature while the world
slowly trickles by,
we cast ourselves alone
and empty in the wilderness.
i don’t know how it happened
that these bodies
awkward flesh hung
became so unnatural
that living in this skin
is not nature enough.
when we say we want
to be in nature
find a place to be in nature
we do not seek solace
in the quiet of our armpits
or the vast fertile plains
of our intestines.
i am tired of talk of sacred forests
when the belly of our being
remains unloved.
our bones
just like our healing stones
are holy.
when did we forget
that we were birthed
slippery wet and reeking of blood,
that our mothers’ took us
to their animal breast
and suckled us as mammal’s do
in the dark of their nests
and the bright sun of days
that we ate of the earth that we were
as we grew, forming ourselves
of dirt and roots and life.
that the water of our bodies
is the same water that flowed
with the first breath of creation
we are the same earth
the same water
that always was.
let us not go empty
to sit among the trees
or bathe in mountain light
to forget who we are
and what we live into this world,
let us go neglected wasteland
and stagnant river that we’ve become
let us go sit amongst ourselves
amongst the trees
to remember.

 

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Harmonize

articulating the bones

articulating the bones

don’t mind me while i sound your bones –
listening for your stories of creation.
reading by touch in the dark of night
what shaped the animal you became,
to see where your heart gnawed
at the cage of your ribs
when the sky was so big
you thought you might explode.
if i walk your spine
each vertebrae a careful footfall
will it walk me back to where we began.
was it the ocean
old sea dog salt of rock and river
coursing your veins, carving
lung and blood vessels into estuaries and trees
your inner ear a conch shell
always listening for the sea.
when our ancestors threw our bones
on that windless sand before the world
to track their way amongst the stars,
who gathered them up again
meticulously counting
on long ago tongues and fingers –
gathered them up to bury them
that we may be born here
be the longing of this place.
remember we were told
all women are formed of mud,
they forgot to tell us,
flesh of mother’s flesh
blood of mother’s blood,
that all the world was holy.
mud, silk soft cool
and new rain beautiful
is holy.
here, this is true,
read my bones.

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Bury

travelling light

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driving the morning road
unzipping the day
from darkness
with a car full of girls
and the feint whisper of dreams
like breath on the windows
as the sun rises desolate
over blackened mountains
through smoke heavy mist
across lakes
illuminating
the burnt edges of the world after fire.
sleep has given way to chatter
like the murmur of of roosting birds
readying for flight
and now
travelling light
they sing
unintentionally
as they do when they are
together in the world
and the road ahead
stretches long.

sunday morning

i woke to find infinity
had taken the space
below my ribs where
sometimes the world waits
with words like you and i.
rolling my eyes inwards
i could see vast
oceans of starscapes
above and below
the silent horizon.
i lay still, steady breathing
that sweet salt sea
so as not to spill the ocean
flooding my veins
with transient magic of starlight
on deep water,
while outside my window
the sun rose
turning darkness
to leaf and tree.

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new moon beautiful

stretching this space
here between ribs,
expanding the horizon
with breath –
i can wait
while the world turns
and turns again.
i can wear this skin
inside out
in the rain
folding and
unfolding my love
pushed paper thin
in the rough bark
of trees
while the sun
rises and falls
like the breath
of an animal
vast and warm.
i am no less
than the dark
between stars
my feet have tasted this –
i can wait.

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reunion

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i carried the dust of that place
on my feet, walked it here
with thanks for the journey
and stood long-shadowed
in the dew wet grass.
stood while the walking
settled to stillness
and the trees, popping
bergwind seeds, cackled
here – you are home,
you are home.

sanctify

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would it matter
if i let me
run your hands
along my fault lines
let them find
that i exist
in breath skin, flesh and bone
because i know
you would take your shoes off
everyday to hear the sun rise
and is it enough
to live this world
knowing there’s a holy mountain
is it enough to live its shadow
and never seek its heights.
would it matter if i let me
run your words along my spine.
would we turn to matter
if i let me.