Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Found on my phone: from june 2011

Today I lay myself down on the Earth's breast. 
I tell her Momma, you have got to breathe for me, 
I can no longer breathe for myself. 


The effort it takes 

to fill my lungs 
with air 
and force it out 
again 
to make room for more 
is just 
too much 
today. 

She rocks me gently,
shuddering from my sadness, 
breezes the hair out of my eyes
so I can see the blindingly blue sky.


She is still 

so I can hear 
the call of the hawk 
soaring 
through the trees, 
feel the push 

of the weeds as they sprout 
beneath my back.

The spiders crawl 

along my arms  
as I lay on my mother's land 

Waiting 

for a message 
from the gods

the goddess
the trees 
the clouds
anyone.