The wind
howls,
magnificent and shrieking,
like some wild woman,
unabashed, naked.
Her brow wet
with brine,
upturned to the most holy sky,
arms raised
in supplication
to a dying world,
embracing,
all that is.
And she
cross-legged,
beneath Gods and Goddesses,
hair whipped in the wind,
eyes brazen,
brown and soft.
A touch of
madness and desire,
no human soul
comprehends.
Her howling
becomes one with the wind,
distress signals to the raiment,
the ancient raiment
that poets and sages
sat under and above
for millenniums.
Legs stretched
in front of her,
toes uncurled,
she lies back
flat —
allowing to be cleansed
by the pelting rain,
the dying Winter,
the oncoming of Spring,
a rebirth of births,
a eulogy to the past,
a welcome to the present,
an embrace to the future.
What it holds
is of no concern,
for she knows
where home is,
away from this society,
away from the busy-ness,
away from monotony
and dramatics,
away from this life
consumed,
with triviality.
She is here
now,
waiting for you,
to set you free
from chains
you have bound yourself with.
Whip your shoulders back,
allow them to fall.
Feel the weight,
vanish.
Grab her hand, willing
loving,
kind,
calm,
pure and desirous.
Show her
how your soul
shines,
show her
how your eyes light up,
show her how you have released
from your very soul,
all the toxicity
of existence.
She is Earth, dirt,
rocks and stones,
limbs of trees,
mighty oaks and maples,
the birch and elm.
She is the silt of faultlines
holding this globe
together.
She is the mighty maelstrom,
every season,
without apology.
She is you,
me.
Come, come and relish this moment.
Even if only once.
Dine as a human, starved.
Sing of the grace bestowed upon you
for you are born to be supreme,
you are born with the ability to fly,
you are born with the gift to see
with six senses,
seven.
You are powerful in your wildness,
in your pure soul self.
She is here to tell you
to scream and cry,
until there is no speech,
to the skies,
to the clouds,
to the falling rain.
Let it wash upon you
like a sweet, cool dream,
and come, come my dear soul.
Do not wait.
No hesitation.
Moments are fleeting.
She is here,
now,
with you,
yet not eternal.
She will share secrets,
teach you how to see
with eyes,
that have no place
in the land of humankind.
She is cirrus, salt.
Each blade of grass,
leaves of the trees of her mane,
like a thoroughbred racing, wondrous,
eyes staring, mad,
There is no finish line
only now, here.
This moment.
Disrobe beneath this day.
Give thanks to the Great Creator,
to Mother Nature.
To the spirits that speak to you
in your dreams.
To the souls that have guided you
to this place,
this patch of Earth,
this precious time.
Bow your head in prayer,
dear soul.
For you are in the presence
of divinity.
Eulogy To The Past. {poetry} | Rebelle Society @SusanMarie_NY https://t.co/EO8xvYMxGH— Rebelle Society (@rebelle_society) February 25, 2016
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