the hierophant

i am Africa

i am the novel darkness

which covers bone

shades the face.

i am the dark pillar

of creative mystery

which supports the feather wieght immensity

of all potential.

from strong legs

and steadfast ways

i carry myself

as mother,

i am child.

the stream is cold and the perils…

the perils.

it is for me that i cross.

it is for the child i carry

it is for the winter which stalks me

and the passion

which lies dead

in the reeds…

that i cross.

oh clear sighted wisdom,

reach into me.

shake loose these makings

let love be crafted from the weights on my shoulders

release into the deepening waters

… and sink.

silently reflect and know

the light within this nights turning.

freedom is the descent.

now resurrection be known and from

the death of ignorance, passion..

restored.

pulled from the reeds,

a coat of miraculous color 

and the creation of a reality

of which no other is master

and self,

is not denied.

it is one stream

and its well,

is the breast of Spirit.

* a dream poem i wanted to share from the week of the Hierophant. miss you all!!!!

3 comments

1. Camille says:

   that is stunning as are you! thank you! what a way to start a rainy day…

   November 20th, 2008 at 9:01 am

2. mykol feather fingers says:

   hmm…. thank you for the permission to share and the strength to do so so completely!!! i can’t wait to see you tonight and hear all about your rainy day!

   November 20th, 2008 at 12:36 pm

3. AnnieTwoBraids says:

   Beautiful. Glad to see that your pen has become a hollow bone, and is communicating great things.

   November 20th, 2008 at 1:40 pm

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