Saturday, August 7, 2010

Birthing Myself Into Being

From the dark, warm, moving place that is our mother, I am born.
Our mother, solid and giving as a moss puddle, nurtured and
nurturing by the crystalline waves of the sun and the patient, curious
perseverance of the ant equally, sharing the power.

I come from the earth and I go to the earth, carrying on
my turtle back all the traditions in the growth of evolution,
carrying in my claw a scrap of dirt from when I dove
deep deep deep into the waters of all-time and grabbed some
of the bottom to bring to the surface to begin grounded creation.

I come from great spirit and go to great spirit
all the time, now, then, no time, always. 
Sometimes I spin through time, 
inch like an inchworm, sun like a lizard. 
Sometimes eye to eye I
dive in the pool with newborn’s instinctive 
swimming breath, staying there.

I am in the water and towards the water, washing peacefully,
transforming violently, changing slowly 
with the ins and outs of waves and tides. 
Through the water I swam 
to bring the bottom to the surface. 
To the water I go, I share, I drink deep 
to enlighten again the memory of my composition. 
The water goes from the deep to the earth, 
like a mantra unsung, it rings through my being.

I am born into community and I am born into this body,
this vessel which moves and holds and smells all near me. 
The water in the aqueduct is free, and I am born
when I remember the vessel isn’t only solid, is free, 
is challenged, is in paradox, is in harmony, 
is moving with the water. 
Words freed like birds from cages in divine poetry.

When I brought the water in from the morning star, I was born
from traditions deeper than blood, surrounded by family 
whose faces I can’t see or recognize. 
The thirsty people drank, we welcomed baby boy, 
son of my family from the deep bottom, and
we laughed. Smoking life earth breath 
through corn and tobacco,
speaking peace poetry, prayer,
drink, birth.

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