Of Queens and Kings

I feel it on the breezes
In dirt beneath my feet
My sleeping heart it seizes
Its pulse begins to beat

Awakening from noble dreams
Of tears and righteous longing
I stretch to meet those righteous beams,
For a new day is dawning.

Mighty sun on mighty skin
A crown of golden rays
Fires on the brow begin
And human hearts ablaze!

On the wind, my forebears whisper
So faithfully I follow
Ancient brothers, ancient sisters
Speak secrets sewn in sorrow

Their blood spilled upon the earth
Now sparkles in the stars
Their wisdom, soaked into my birth
And died for in hidden wars

I harken now, the melodies
Their starry heaven brings
Harken hearts of earthly queens!
Harken earthly kings!

Rise and bear the mighty flag
Of lands that won’t be tamed
Eagles fly from mountain’s crag
And call our holy names

Bellow heaven’s booming horns
A pounding earth is drumming
In the throes of being born
Man Divine is coming!

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Ostara

Awaken little children of Yavanna
To the warmth of Her dancing footsteps
In the chill morning air.

Quickened by Her dew of silver and gold,
A collaboration of nourishment
From Moon and Sun.

Roots stretch and pulse
With stored illumination,
And vigor renews itself
In burgeoning colors.

May those rowdy little shoots,
Brazen and sprightly,
With shaking fists full of leafy fingers,
Rise up to rollick with the fresh breezy air

Until at last the soft blossom
Calms the ruckus
Like a tender lover,
Her flowing garment of petals
Turned up toward the sun,
Her fragrance to the breeze.

And yet far below
Where Her hallowed footsteps fell
The pungent dirt watches from the Underneath
The glow of leaves and petals,
Like emeralds and rubies,
And delight in Her miracles.

Rivers

River
Sometimes stillness hurts.
When the voices of those who depend upon you are absent,
And you are left with your own tender love for yourself.
Deep and dark and softly flowing,
Ever whispering
Your kaleidoscope currents reflecting back the truth of yourself.

The trees are enamored with Her.
With utmost devotion, they reach their calloused branches
To caress Her waters with feathery leaf fingers,
The sweet joy of holding her hand!
The union of mother and child.

And here She opens to me
As I open to myself
Letting my own calloused fingers
Be cleansed and refreshed and disappear, for a moment,
Into her heavy, liquid darkness.

This union of my simple life and my immortal soul
The communion of earth’s fertile soils and God’s starry heavens.

May the dirt of my rough fingers sparkle with starlight.
May the sun make a map of my skin.
May my heart break open in the wind,
And my waters run free.

For I am alive!

Grok

Where are you, Beloved?

Do not strip her naked
Piece by piece
In weights and measures.
The magic of her pulse is not found in your instrument.

Put a flower in her hair, and petals at her feet.
Sing to her. Serenade her.
Close your eyes and she will dance for you, in all her goodness.

Only then will you know her curves and angles
Quite outside the hungry intellect and impulses,
You will know her softness.

For her fullness is found not in the answer
But in the Question.

“Try to love the questions themselves… Do not seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them…Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day in the answer.”
– Rainer Maria Rilke

Harvest

What is this beauty in the world? This violence?
This longing of my own flaming heart, the diamond desires of my lucent bones?
The breath in my lungs whispers to me. Up and down, in and out. Secrets.
Listen too hard, grasp and grope, and She is gone.
For her strength is a mighty and shy exhalation.

Can we explain the blooming of a rose?
The swirling flight of a million bats?
The depths of a dripping cavern?
The jagged mountains soothed by swollen rivers?

Let down your shoulders, your hair, your guard, your answers.
Surrender to the sweet tortures inside you, to the blossoming tenderness,
To the congealing of movements gathered along the way.

Like flowers in a basket, weave them into your essence.
A braid of daisies, a crown of lilies, a necklace of jeweled honeysuckle.
Fall into her soft, sweet grasses
And cry and sing softly in her seduction.

 

“Try to love the questions themselves… Do not seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them…Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day in the answer.” – Rainer Maria Rilke