i light the morning fire
though today sun will come
warming the floors
drying the wool
hung in skeins
after dyeing.
there is time still
for love to breathe me
before light has turned to day
and the world begins its waking.
these are my gods this morning
warmth of flame
burning dead-fall wood.
chorister robin
low branched
in the elder tree,
singing.
light new risen
etching deep vein shadows
in spring green
leaf translucence.
breath –
all of it breathing.
these are our high and holy days
the ones where we shake
the night’s rain from blossoms
so they might yield their scent
to our breath,
the ones where we wake to the sound
of smartphones proclaiming the day,
(and the hour and the weather)
the ones we make toast for,
early morning iron pans
on gas burners – soft speak
and warm tea.
these are our high and holy days
slipping seamless into traffic
hands cool on steering wheels
as we drive east
face to the rising sun.
these are our high and holy days
early morning market days
driving rhythm school days
late nights on the computer days.
these are our high and holy days
sunbird in the coral tree days
wrangling the internet days
planting seeds and changing tyre days
watching for the moon days.
these are our high and holy days
air so thick with spring days
that our feet grow roots on the path
while flowers teach us to breathe.
these are our high and holy days.
all of them.
if i am going to share your shadow
share your awakening
then let me taste you.
let me know your unraveling
in spring from the scent
it left on your skin.
let me ache with the cold
of ocean in your bones
and the warmth of granite
boulder pressing into the
arch of your back
palms to the sun.
if we are to share this shadow
this awakening
then give me the
word on your lips
that chased you
heart pounding from dream
or the sound
of your morning
when light touched
tips of the coral tree
and the sunbird
iridescent
began to sing,
let me taste what it is
that made you.
i was wrong.
the world cannot live unspoken
anymore than the heart
can live
unsaid.
as dependable as days rush towards us
and nights breathe us clear and still,
so our hearts
open us to the world
word by tentative word
bright petals to the morning sun.
there is a finite pause
in this infinity of life
as we are born
so we must die
and we will.
i will lose you and
you will lose me
as we have done
so many times before.
until then
let us live alive
to love
joyous fractal arcs of light
knee deep in the smell of rain
knowing infinity by our finite measure
leaning into every moment,
remembering.
let not a fear of death
keep us from living.
and when my breath
becomes the world wind once more
let me be reborn a seeker
hungry for the sound of your light
in the world
until every leaf and breath
and mountain speaks you.
i heard them from the road
as i was walking soft in late autumn sun
i heard them talking together
voices rising, rolling and falling around each other
familiar with where the pauses
and breaths happen and where scar tissue
thick pink has grown armour on old wounds
some shared
they were in the garden
silver haired sentinels
warrior grandmother’s in lilac and beads.
quiet a moment
watching the sun slant low through trees
and fuchsias opening wax red calyxes
to reveal froth pink centres
delicate crystalline shimmer
in silver sliver light.
they have lived all the names of woman
daughter sister aunt wife
mother grandmother friend.
and more
miss mrs ms
inside i sit on blue brocade
in purple embroider-land
but under their skirts
combat boots are showing
they laugh like cowboys
and drink their tea.
and sometimes we wake
face down amongst the debris
of the tide line, sea grass entangled
sun pulling salt skin taut across our bones.
there is no knowing our name
or how it is we came here
but there is a thirst in us
and across the mudflats,
beyond the driftwood and bodies of creatures
forgotten by the ocean when the estuary mouth
was breached, is water.
and there is nothing to be done
but to drag yourself to that water
fall to your knees in the shallows
and let it teach you how to pray
to live adrift
a creature of the dark pools
and golden sand
creature of the soft pulling tides
and slow moon rising –
lulling you to sleep
until you dream and you remember
the course of the ocean in your veins
the rush and plummet of the waves
pulling aqua before obliterating
every part of you that
thought you were not the ocean.
and you know you have died
on those mudflats before
and you know you will die there again
just to be ocean once more
salt in your blood, hum of whales in your bones
and breath enough to live by.
and everything in you turns towards that ocean
feeling for the tide that will breach the river mouth.
