lauds and always and againthis light comesdistils into bird songcalls us from sleepsings our awakening prime and perhapswe never neededto overthink thisbeing here –perhaps all we ever know,all we ever needed to knowis that we are here-nowwomen becominglichen becoming tree-lightbushbuck forest becoming morningbecoming women terce sunflowersturn their bright sky facesto look to the earthto the…
if it must be that dreams will follow, traipse home with us from that other world, then let them be this sweet awakening to mist plumes that sigh the birded valley at dawn.
coming home in the night the river still flows dark under that quiet dream sky and we fall to that flow as we fall to sleep and the water reclaims us fin and gill and speaks us silver ripple and quiet splash to the trees. if there was a long night it was dark and…
it is the ocean who speaks these long days, horizon to horizon, thundering her song across the hills. summoning the tides that course our veins to live enlivened by the salt prayers that shape us amniotic in the ocean of our own remembering, form us pulse of light from the dark waters of our longing.