For as we age
Our faces fold in upon themselves
The maps of all our days emerge
In laugh-lines, in worry-warts
In fingers grown like twigs on a forest floor
Beginnings mete out endings
Relations fall from edges of our earths
White-salted seas encroach once-growing green
But all in all, I would not have it any other way:
For from these stiff environs
Virility of the mind evokes
The thoughts speak themselves
I am beyond caring, evolved from a life of care
Having achieved my mantra:
I have nothing left to lose
Each day to gain
God himself has tasted my winter soul
And wrought the miracle of spring
Within.
__________________________
Familiar as my teeth is age
Brought into balance by agelessness
For all that brings eternal into mind is mine
Too soon, too young retires into mist
As all turns white
The color of my bones
Emerging into earth
And when this is decay & eyes are dark
This life no more
A tiny spark will up, away
A laugh’s delight
Free of sinew-flesh, of lips & liver
Free of knees that kneel no more to men
With arms no more to carry, carry
Lifting life & bearing it.
My woman’s heart will finally know silence
As into the drumming beat of life I go
Into the seas beyond a mortal shore
I’ll swim, a silver skim of scales
Mouth wide to all the light of life
Eternal & intense
Reflecting in the mirror
Behind me all the toils of the world
I swim to fly,
Oh Mother! Father! I had the most wonderful dream!
_____________________________
The Muse returns, unequivocal, demanding
Surrounding me with her perfumed robes
Pushing the pen into my hand
Closing my eyes, I write once more
The words that will me to live for ever
For ages yet to be, for thoughts unheard
On paths unseen
She turns my head away from all of now
As I become the beyond of her desire
“Write!” she snarls, pearly teeth all shown
“Never be I said I failed you, my slave to words,
Silver-hearted, blood-borne light,
“Write, you fool of phrase, trap them each
In broken sigh. Pile them all upon your sleigh
Take up the traces, pull them forward
Wake them up for there is no such thing as sleeping
To be had today.
Dash your tears into the future
Follow them there
What lies beyond cannot forget itself, let alone forgive,
But must be said, be felt in dream again
I leave no stone unturned, no gift unopened
This is all yours, this blessing of the Scribe.
You need aught else, you have no more
Than these true words grinding into wheat
Between the millstones of your swollen heart
And this, your only life.
Yes, you hear me now; I’ve never died
tho you’ve given me last rites
I will ink your middles
Till you rise into the last Word
Like God Himself calling forth all heaven.
“Write!” she growls, “you think you’re harried now?
I will harrow you to dust unless you do!”
