Lindi-Ann Hewitt-Coleman

if these stones could talk
they would speak of how we came here –
shaped ourselves boneless
of the salt ocean breath
and cool flame light
of surface shifting water.
long days we drifted so,
forming and formless
gathering light and shape
tasting the spice rush
of embodied form
to dissolve again
scattering the scent of sea roses on the wind
finding voice to sing the oceans birth
until our light turned to matter
and tides bound our form.
some days on misty mornings
when the sea breath hangs
heavy with salt – we come
boundless across the cliffs
spilling formless
through forest trees
hear us
we are singing still.

i did not see them coming
a hundred geese
scraping the hill top
filling the world
with flight
and perhaps
i breathed their flying
their dark heavy shapes
heading home
beyond the trees
until again
i was alone
with nothing
but the sound
of their wings
between myself
and the evening star.

Blogging the Senses

i breathe into this rain
that demands to be danced.
rain that aches for the taste of my skin
arms outstretched
as much as my skin leaf-aches
to be touched –
to speak all the names of rain
light fingered on chest
and shoulders and face.
i follow my feet
toe soft and wet leaf adorned
heart stretched and thrumming
like a roof in the rain
pause to see tight bud march lilies
lift their snake head stems
in soft soil
long waiting
for rain.

i would have been here sooner
standing light on the river bank
secreted by branches overhanging
and leaves that have sprouted
from my elbows and knees,

but time has passed before today
and my walk here was dragging
with weight of words unsaid
and speaking is always slower
when the world is
unspoke.

and if it has to be
that this world must end
i will still lift my face
to the fading sky
and sing my hallelujahs
for the light
that has been here
since before it all began
that comes deep veined
and luminous
through the transient life of leaves
to scatter warm living on my skin.

i will place my head
on the gnarl trunk tree
to whisper like paper bark
my prayers of thanks
for love and here
until there is no voice
or whisper or tree
and our hearts
are wrenched open
by the small hands of living
and the beauty
of being
of this world.

i have tried to walk
this way of the world
on new feet.
tried to feel on footsteps
slower than breath
every soft clay indent
and miniscule tree snap
of twig and leaf underfoot.
paused and stood in prayer
waiting for the rooting
but none came
for my tongue has long forgotten
the words my world has spoken.

but these feet – pale fish
webbed amongst the ferns
are singing of the river and the stones,
singing new songs of longing
calling on ocean tides
and still subterranean pools
alive with phosphorescence
and misplaced memories.
stumbling over new skin prayers
of exultation and love,
finding firm footing
for new feet on old paths
where perhaps
we walked before.

it would have to happen
that golden leaves would start to fall
drifting in slow lonely spirals
to the waiting river where we swam
feeling the pull of that tide
deep between tall forest shadow
and light.

and I knowing the seasons
will turn and turn again
break the silent silver surface
give my breath to the beauty
of these change leaves
telling the sky
i will not weep
for the ending
of this summer.

go gentle now
my love
this breath we share
mist blown from ocean
has breathed us all before.
has breathed the breath
that sings bird into song
and forest into drifts of light.
this breath that walks
these bones to life
will breathe us all again.
let us remember
and go gentle now
my love.

patience beloved one
the world dreamed our dreaming
of the world into being.
waited while we slept
and drifted and dreamed
formless in the light.
waited until we rose
walking our butterfly wing fragility
into the world.
watched, breath held,
while our wings tore
and our hearts broke
open to the sky,
until all there was
was sky
and heart
and the iridescent dust of wings
falling like rain where the forests grew.
and still we came on limbs new formed
walking the world we dreamed into being.
walking until we became the dust
under our own feet.

it is so close now
beloved one
we are the song
that wakes us.