I gather this earth into the mouth
of wind. I am a song of the
goddess. O mother of gods. I sang
the southern ditty, a dust mote in
the sun. Come to me, eternal Muse,
your music humbles me. The gay day
is turning white with laughter, the
blush of flowers birthing rainbows
on bee wings. You are the
heavenliest thing after prayer. I am
mortal in your arms, mother. I
gather the fire in the bellows of my
heart, I gather salt into the
seagull's beak. I know what I speak
of. I scream in the shadows, a slave
to thirst. I groan in the night, a
master of nothing. O mother where
are my prayers? Where are the places
the river tears flow? Where is your
hand in all of these? As the trees
tremble with rain & the weight of
harvest, let me not be empty into
tomorrow.
Yours always,
Osahon (warpedpoetic)
