lifting my eyelids from their slumber
like a miniature sunrise
My quaky bones stretch like cold birch limbs
into the courting air of March
humming silent murmurs to the hidden flowers
My heart reaches for the melted ground
where the leaf litter crumbles
into muddy compost
Yet my ears still search
for the calling home
for the welcoming.
Where's the village song?
Where's the calling down
of the rain
and the blissful chant of the grain?
Where is the Daughter when the Mother falls ill
Where is Grandpa when the Son's heart breaks
Where is the feeling of together.
Far away we fly
on metal wings
slicing through flocks
to get to the beach or the jungle
"to see the world"
To see that it's true in some ways
in some pockets far away
that we do call with our voices
the rain, the sun, the agony, the blessings
We sing in the spring
And chant our mourning
until the haunting dissolves
And in our pocket here
where bounty is expected
and freedom reigns
we wake lonely
with the bruising of far away pains.
Where is the Daughter when Mama falls ill?
She's flying overseas calling home on her cell
Where are the Grandpa's with stories to tell?
They're back at the homestead; abandoned home-shell.
They're back at the homestead; abandoned home-shell.
We're selling our souls to the mortgage Gods
and breaking our backs to feel worthy.
We're starving for wholeness of wheat and of tribe.
We're selling our fancy new knowledge
for what? Cars? Fashion? Pride?
I rise from my sleepy blankets and listen
for that call of the red bird
to sing me back home
to the vision of whole
where I can rest my birch bones.
Where the sunrise is sung
up by children
and the stories are still told
where the trees are known from each season's skin
and the senses stir wisdom from deeper within
I call out my voice to the wandering souls
to the hearts lost on the islands alone
to sing yourself home to the land
you call home
and sink in to the flavor of each moment born
How we long for the leaves to speak
to us
for the roots to tell us when to plant
How we long to belong
to feel safe
and yet free
How we long to sing
our wild heart song
to the wind and hear her call us hers.
How we long to shed our costumes of "independence"
and fall hopelessly in love with togetherness.
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