NOMADS PILGRIMAGE
Nomad moon is made for the wolf’s pilgrimage
Walks with my own step in grass song
Creaking trees try teaching me my roots
Verdant water beads hear the whale heart
Beating through this pebble shore
To the planets beginning before blue
Before seed and green before green
Rolling awake I make chalk marks on the road
Far from the sea driftwood body gathering words
I compile my ink note corridors
Charcoal ants and crows whirl
Through the scrawling air
Heart swells light passing through my bones
Stretching mountain shadows away from the cellular fire
Garden snake leaves the white page of my head
She is the minister before the court of clouds
Behind her mask of mud and straw
She reads from the parchment of truth
A torn moth wing a testimony of hatching
An elders Consciousness through the pupils light
A story pulled from the sky to rest on.
Rattling leaves and the stir of ash makes the world
A clear fountain of pure land empty of thoughts
Flowers grow through a mirror of winter mind
Paint brushes the moon over roses beneath snow
Over the troubled bears dream into the hives nectar
I grip the small energetic heart of snake
In the owl hole of shivering silver branches
Wings spread through my hands
In the unseen stream I conjure worlds into form
Healing grey hues of shadows worn.
