Lindi-Ann Hewitt-Coleman

i could tell
i could speak the words
that make me
i could name the prayers
that walk these bones
to the living.
utter them teeth palate syllable
pause breath syllable.
follow sentences
until they flow
riverine forest path
sighing soft footed
under trees that those
who came before
have spoken into being.
i could tell.
i could whisper the words
that called me here
the mumbling in the rocks
that taught this tongue
to speak.
in silence.

Image by Tamarisk-Ray Glogauer.

i have walked away
from ifs and when.
these mountains
have long loved me
without reason
these stones and hills
have sung my bones
formed my flesh
to its purpose.
today i walk softly
on the sacred skin
of home.

this inevitability
of death
is not yours alone
but mine and ours
and theirs.
a birthright
that we do all claim,
inevitably.
but in the moment
between birth and death
while the raven rips
the blueness of sky,
we stand ablaze
singing the light
through leaves.

it is not the moon
full shadowed,
crescent bright
nor the flourish of stars
in gods were here ink swirls
across the patient night.
it is not the soft silence of forest
on whispered mornings in spring
nor sticky air, pollen sweet on my skin.
it is not the have my breath eagle,
hands held to shade the sun
or even the pause beat
pattern
of light through leaf.
all of these i fall to,
hold on to, to soothe the ache.
all of these are gifts –
love tokens
to my new awakened heart.
it is my feet
walking quiet
through the busy of the world
that speaks my name to the sky
tells me who i am
reminds me
i am here.

i watched the children building
walls against the tide.
faces intent, frantic sand elbows
piling handfuls on washed foundations.
digging channels of diversion
on praying knees,
laughing backs to the advancing waves –
protecting what is theirs.
their shell turret castles
their deep sand stairways
their moats and feather flags.

i am tired of building walls
i have let down my drawbridge
opened my windows to the wind.
let the tide have me.
let it have my boundaries and proclamations
my loathings and longings
and silent hopes carried round smooth
under my tongue.
let it call my sand flesh from old tower bones
disperse me on long walk beaches
and sacred estuary shores
until all of me is swirling flow
and the coursing pulse of infinity.
let me meet you there on dancing feet
i am nothing but the tide.

in wingbeats slower
than my beating heart
slower than breath
or feet that fall
steady on evening paths
the heron
grey now in the wilted sky
counts down
the moments
until nightfall.

blood moon

i stood there forever
between the road
and the cumulus sky
waiting for the moon –
and it came
spilling silver through the clouds
touching mountains
and treescapes
and me
twining through my hair
seeping through my skin
singing crone songs to my bones
that once were mountains
once were sea.

i stand there still
flooded with light
between the road and the sky
while the owl flies silent
amongst the swimming stars.

this is my skin prayer
etched in sand
squatting on the water’s edge
golden river pushing tidal
between my fingers.
sun drenched
and draped in sky
so blue it obliterates tomorrow
says it is now
always now
when the fish eagle
casts its call
across the water.

i want to set
this prayer in stone
leave my heart
in the aching tree.
i want this prayer
to speak its words
when i am not here
for the praying.
but stones are hard
and cold on my tongue
and life is a transient prayer.

so i will rake
soft scratch today
in the forest floor
while the leaves swirl
and blow my undoing.
and always
and only today
i will walk my words
on paths new made
while the earth
tells my feet
how to pray.

it will rain
ready or not
and long walk from home.
gentle now
the wind has turned to salt breath
and the murmuring of waves.
it touches cool on bare skin expecting summer
while trees unfold their leaf prayer hands
stretching their arms to the sky.