beginning and ending
opening and closing
each beat. pumping--
life.
(re)birth—
****
In the back forty
there is a tree as old as me
though that’s not sayin’ much
she’s a mere thir-ty three
They came and they conquered
the wild, the uncivilized, the feral
clear cut
slash and burn
heartbreak
striped even the snags
disappeared the birds
barrened the women
hollowed the ground.
(filled it with waste. trash. bodies.)
Shallow graves-- at best --
though most often they just threw
a blanket
flame.
Covered us up with smoke
called it dignified, civilized, and rectified
tamed,
domesticated
animal
no longer dang-erous
What’s left
but ah’ (like a gasp)
high-pitched ringing
of unclaimed past--
ghosts of wing beats
There lies, here remains
the only rise and fall we now know--
a chest flutter, heart pounding
pal-Pi-TAtion
(of a nAtions interests.)
anxiety disssss-connect (in a whisper)
Around these parts you can hear memories
louder than words
the scream, the mutter,
whisper as you walk by
as if they had voices
voices of their own--
Around these parts children are no longer--
born (of women)
Women gone. Been sterilized.
We haven’t always been a people
deaf, blind and mute--
barren. Indifferent.
Vibrations been ˈhälō-ed
clear cut
slashed and burned
heartbroke
There once was a time you could feel the vibrations
live the vibrations,
replicate-reproduce the vibrations
but today. we only speak, tell stories, ghost tales
in remembrance of--
Homes to stones, rubble
Forests to snags, debris
Snags to clear-cut, empty
Woman to object broke
hard-to-argue, forsaken
They called it progress,
the minimization of liability (in a hoity voice)
Merciless,
when they--
they,
we,
I,
clear cut
slash and burn
heartbreak
set the (winged) beings, critters,
them,
us,
me
flesh and blood
to Sisyphus’ fateful flight.
****
There was a time I breathed
only pine needles and pollen
--coated so thick the glass windows
of my heart --left residue
not even newspaper could remove
But now I only breathe your exhaustion
the smog (smoke) covering the clear skies
of your eyes
I’m tired now,
too tired to hate
too tired to (re)create
now I just prophecies
speak, utter says of (re)birth
rumors of being born again
Give me your ear child
and I will give you--
a garland to grace your head
a chain to adorn your neck
Patience child,
and I tell you a truth-saying
in the telling of my tale:
I had to learn
I had to learn
a new rest
a new habitat
in the belly of the beast
I feel like been born again
like I’m stuck in a fucking tunnel
jammed up balled up
my chin shoved into my chest
my head smashed between the bones
of my mothers contracting pelvis
my body contorts—wincing--
i reached up and ripped her open
she gave a mighty shout
god damn it i put her through hell
as i try to find my way
reaching up to the hell blinding light
I didn’t want to hurt you
I wished I was a little more delicate
at the threshold of being born again.....
utterly human and alive
shapeshifting at each
threshold--
in between
the beats.
Betwixt
the day
the night.
Dia-stolic
between
contraction.
The old world must be left behind
I know you are not sure of the new one yet
but do not rush it child
Do not be afraid child
Remain
in the threshold,
it’s a good space,
get there often
and stay as long as you can
by whatever means possible
for it is here we are born
again and again
there will come ‘crazy times’
times that look nothing like we’re used to
times like just after a loved one’s death
times like just after loves loss
times that are not so clear-cut
