transfiguration

032

it was the river who sang me
ankle deep in winter prayer and
midsummer submerged absolution,
learning my silence from
the steady singing of mountains
tumbling grain by grain
until even the sun yielded to the sea.
darkness came and i sang those
soft lulabyes, crooning the night
with beak and claw –
blowing whale to the waiting moon
who watched our tangled decent.
i am you when you breathe me
shape me to your words
but ink cannot dry on skin that sheds
and the song of snake becomes me
until i wake belly to the forest floor
the pattern of my living
crude carved on my face and hands
and feet that learn the dawn song
of deerpath only to forget
the shape of tongue
that told it so.
when morning comes
i sing the song of mothers
of flesh rent from flesh
in the dark folds of night

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Churn

Advertisements

10 thoughts on “transfiguration

  1. WOW! A fantastic write. I especially love “and feet that learn the dawn song of deerpath only to forget
    the shape of tongue that told it so.” Wonderful writing. Your imagery is awesome.

    Like

  2. I have sat with your words for a few days now and I really like the images as they flow, almost like I’m standing at the mouth of a river – and am carried along. It’s very evocative. There are too many lines to pull, but I really was captured by this one: held fast in its originality –

    blowing whale to the waiting moon

    definitely a melodious wave of images and feelings here – very enjoyable!

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s