The Desperate Need

 

The desperate need
to feed and be fed by the ‘call’ of nature
has become a ‘creed’ (yes, indeed!) like a prayer:

That my life might in…in its utmost passion – and strife –
be contingent on the indigenous ways of tribal days
being available once again.

In our indigenous
reappraisal of the many ways that nature
slays us with delight.

Of our atmosphere being one
she breathes and breathes out and in,
and in…in all together.

We are one
as one bound,
wound, and well-rounded Nature!

I Hear About These Ocean Planets

I hear about these ocean planets
Where water may be kilometres deep
Where don’t exist the coastlines of continents
No shoreline at all, no waves gently lapping on beaches.

No shirr and tumble on soft sand
No suck and tidal tug of broken shells
No constant fingering at the edges of estuary
Just the sphere of shimmering and surging and still sea.

I hear about the primordial forest
Where the air is unbroken by birdsong
No sudden liquid eruption or casual chirruping
Where the movement is only of beetles and dragonflies.

The flit and rustle and stir of wing
Humming and droning and murmuring
The swarm and coruscation of chitinous flight
But no cool cadence of evening song by a bird on a limb.

I hear of some meditations within
Attention drops below covering clouds
In the rare atmosphere the silent mind dwells
And extends all around until circumnavigation complete.

I hear from some forest far below
The walk and stirring of the Lord of life
When by a pool ripples up the one clear note
On resplendent wings I now fly to draw near the source.

2-9-2013

For Who Might See

You – did you know me when
I fell into the ageless well within?

And you – did you watch me while
I lingered before the flame
Of my Beloved’s smile?

Perhaps you – you saw me dance.
Did you taste the kiss of who
I touched in trance?

Maybe you – in your eyes I recall
A fleeting light:
A moon between clouds
On a stillborn night.

1997

Hands Loosely Folded In Prayer

Hands loosely folded in prayer
Thumbs touch, resting like lover’s heads
He below, she leaning in, shared
Wonderment in the flowerbed’s
Soft pillow, the day above in blue
And should the night roll right around
Like a counterweight, the view
Of heaven’s host of lights be found.

Hands loosely folded in prayer
Lips want to kiss the cool thumbnails
Two half-moons under shiny veils
And nostrils rest and draw upon
The air and light from father, son,
One hand the parent to the other
The space they share, theirs discovered
A place for holy spirit there.

Hands loosely folded in prayer
Fingertips touch the mountainous knuckles
Like unborn children’s heads to knees.
Before the bosom, one’s childhood suckles
Upon itself in dreaming seas
And so the hands become a womb
Enfolded spirals like seashell rooms
Breath at the foot of the stairs.

Hands loosely folded in prayer
Fingers make furrows across a mound
A fertile world, two roots going down
To elbows anchored near the hips
The space between where eyes like ships
Approaching a bright new world explore
The fissures leading to the core
The fecund treasure there.

Hands loosely folded in prayer
The folded fingers a double roof
The heels of palms the floor, the hooves
Of goats that press on angled walls
Starlight streaming above the stalls
Thumbs move now from lips to forehead
Third eye the star that sees the bed
And the baby cradled there.

18 – 11- 2010

Prayer

tether it here, in the cool midnight air of light
waving warm rippled streams, enter into my dreams
loosen my lean swathes of flesh.
encolour my chest, inrush an infusion of beams
fill the crater inside, warm its tide of new life
overwhelm all the sides, make a nest.
awaken fractal tendrils of power.
give the breath girth and width
carry clear heart forthwith from the window
of my tenanted tower.
 
may sourcewaters flow free from this well
in this uncharted realm, let my lungs be the helm
and my ribcage cut waters in half.
end the occupation of lies and constriction
call my spirit return from its enclosure of fiction
and fiercely guard this new craft.
call the corners of walls to new dominion
seal all corridors, redraw lines of permission
sound inside a long note that now lets down the diaphragm.
ancient ancestral fathers of yore
expand me to be as I am once more.
  
14 – 2 – 05

Prayer for the Healing of the Liver

Your liver is alive! It calls on you
(And in pain can be quite urgent)
To help it now enthuse with yellow light!
In the rainbow light spectrum of your body,
Your liver lives at the level of the swathe
Of living yellow light that forms a band above the waist.
Look at that liver! A large wedge of living tissue
That takes the living nature of god’s creation
From the food absorbed by the bounteous bloodstream
And catalyses it into the lifeforms that fuel your being.
What a wonderful aspect of being –
Receiving from the world all its bounty
And supporting the heart to love fully in the world!
Vigilant in its power –
Filtering out all the poisons and dangers that beset the world.
What thanks we give to the liver!
The liver, the lover of life.
We honour it now with washes of yellow light.
Repel the invader, support the wonderful warrior liver!
No mention of meat and decay in the body –
Cancerous notions of the growth of substance without consciousness –
will ever deny the liver its largesse, its lifting power,
The laughter and license of life itself!
The liver, the wedge of lemon suffused with the juice
Of the the ‘zing’ that sings in life-well-lived.
Praise and love to the liver!
Let sunshine lighten its burden now!
Golden honey, lambent candle flame,
Lemons and melons and the glowing memories
Found in autumn’s radiant leaves of yellow.
We heed to the calling of the liver
And love it now for its courageous and loyal service.
Amen.
  
January ‘07