For the Dead Parts of You

Roman-mosaic-know-thyself

Roman Mosaic “Man know thyself”

For the Dead Parts of You

 

Time was wearing an eclipse when it told me

This story is too old for most of you

But “poetry is the resurrection of presences”

More than I can speak of here with this medicine chant

And I’ll tell you many things that you’ll soon forget

But I am instructed to speak of my apprenticeship

And soul travel as a medicine person

 

Don’t stop anywhere at what does he mean

Try explaining yourself to yourself

If it’s easy you have work to do

Enter at the risk of all you know

 

It’s not easy sustaining the life flow

Through veiled gated borders of other worlds

Never mind those neo shamans

Coloring people with fragile healing charms

There are parasitic dark ones

Who would blot out transformation

Cavities in the impossible teeth of a black metal sky

 

There would be many things I would come to know

In the intimate nuances of plural reality

The light and dark journey is for us all

To journey home to our true nature

 

I keep the alliance with the numinous ancestors and genii loci

They keep my speechless heart on the carrying winds

 

I rose with the vultures from the desert floor

My spirit vessel ruptured by the world

Floating on a blue river between clouds that sharpen the horizon

Silhouetting the old mountain bones saints of death

 

I heard sad feint guitar threads remembering

Long gone canyons red with my blood

Rattle and howl of ancestors rose in me

With a slight tearing in the beautiful harvest of awareness

Whatever was cultivated from my life was dismembered

Shoulder of my old crow wing falls

As my tree rings stretch across the empty land

 

A cacophonous kraaa rips the air

I remember raven rearing up

In a twisted wire of smoke

 

Gravity of dark matter pulling through the throat rattle

Black holes across the continent

Over wrinkled maps of time

Tassels from the long drum of the moon

Uttered in tender shreds of dawn

“Your thinnest tender branches

Have been on the longest journey

For the dead parts of you to wake up”

 

The sun was wearing a hood

Dusting the ash off its pouch of sighs

Burning shadows made beautiful

In their reflection of you

 

Amnesiac prayers had lost their necessary relationship

Moon had no motion or sound in its womb

Disguised in her many changing faces

Around the cerulean blue curvature of the earth

I fell apart to see the distance between us

Like storm clouds we separated and joined again

To know the difference of a soft turtle sky

To remember when the sun leaves the moon turns on

 

I had to learn our primal animal speech again

Stalactite dripping tongue

Releasing soul essence from the soft cave

A scattered herd of feelings rekindle

Fossilized fire shining with its far vision

Eyes of sad diffused light return from the distance within

Turning bee hive bright in the hollow bones and porous image

 

I am the black mamba fire serpent

A brujo psychopomp who wears silver wolf hair

Horns flaming from the skull in silver shrub

 

In a quickening story

The bees ride the wolf in me

A soul traveler with honey magic

To carry me through reincarnation

Many days changing my many ways

In these dream running heights

 

From our shattered world

I can make the corn grow through my chest

Into the coyote darkness with their quiet sickle moon secrets

I am watched from the foothills

As mountain shadows return to sky

Whispers of animals speak of my care full footsteps

Hummingbirds feed on the sugar of these thoughts

I am of the ancient corn people who still feed the sacred

I put the deer mask on to comb the future and the past

Watch cacti skeletons quickening in the stillness

I rattle the old wind bone chimes swaying the evergreens

Following the bend in the wood

Land spirits press into cholla shade and silences

Ancient footpaths buried beneath reveal their stories

A wild nebula beauty of memory grows inside

New leaf and berry language

Nuclear burning centers of massive stars

Lift and break our thought merchants

On the overflowing page of deaths poem

Into blank canvass between human and spirit form

 

Any moment I can be a ravaged glyph returned to you

A faded hand print still working its way through you

Footsteps of runic tracks through your restless dream

My cooing soft animals scurry over your bones

Under the night shawl of your sighs needs and colliding clouds

My intoned summons disappear into your pulse

 

This far inland the sea cries in you

You of holy brine of blood and watershed

Mend your soul in my deep green well

 

I scratch my deer head into the earth

I rattle my shaman stones

In the star shined puddle

Pull you inward into this drowning spell

Fall through this muddy mirror

Always open before your knocking

Knocking on you before you open

With the invisible door ajar

My bear skull watches

The movement of your spirit

 

I am inside you when you turn your thoughts my way

When you sense the other within

Ripening the berry of the dormant heart

All things bloom when we pay attention

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