Spiral for the Seventh
Standing in dry grass
ankle deep in rough haired weeds--
overlooking the twilight hills.
A calm breath slides through,
alive and twinkling as any star--
lights up my clay body like a lantern.
The sun sets, peachy orange and brilliant pink.
Stretching my heart into the beauty of the four directions --
to anchor loving kindness,
to swallow the suffering of this world
and work it into a web of radiance.
Celebrating the return of wisdom,
I vow to dance and sing this life, a steady flame
I am the blood and breath of First Woman,
looking on with a belly
full of wilderness and mystery.
The city below twinkles in fading light and vehicles buzz on--
impermanent and fragile in the face of eternity.
Smiling to bless it all, I dance the wind
the trees, the evening crickets
the flowing river--
to those who walked this land long before me
and to those who will come long after.
Perhaps they will dance in the dream dust of my bones,
loving themselves and all the world
as sacred and inter-related,
sunflowers overflowing with life.
© Genevie Emerson 2005