Dark Mother

Dark Mother

My eyes still see the highways of normalcy

There is no mantle in this place..

nothing..no identity to cloak myself in

I cannot be Her I think, I am too mortal
too rooted in the ways of flesh and warm blood
too buried in the small humanness of personhood

But even in my waking day I do sense the mystery
crackling just out of view
-am aware of the encircling nothingness that echoes
hovering just beyong visibility
a place the warm body in its bed shrinks
from knowing

When I sit quieter I can smell the silence -the
ancient waiting of the cold high places
I feel the wind moving over the land
the high call of the distant bird
I hear the stillness of the unturned burial, taste
the remote empty gaze of eternity

This is the place of truth in its unemcumbered starkness
where, all we struggle for in life, is revealed
to be just ribbons in our hair

Stars are born as I look - there is no wonder
in me - I am one with it
Birthing dying all is as it is

Back in my body I become my heart beat
and ask what is important
and I hear - There is no important
we do as we do
all stories are equal in the face of death
There is no storehouse of right deeds
or even a true heart that can change this

But to have lit a candle to the mystery - to
have breathed deep in gratitude for
birdsong and moonlight- and to have
held hands in love
may help us fall
more lightly into that great spaciousness

by Trinda