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Love Song to my Sister

remember that time?

remember that time when we were walking
and the sun warmed our hair as it rested on our shoulders
as we worked our winding way down the rolling slope of the mountain
to the meadow in the basin where the path dipped down
and where the moss-covered trees sang their song,
and it sounded like a sigh?

the slight breeze lifted their branches,
so we lifted our eyes and we stood still.

we became one with the old tree,
as She gathered us in and held us
in an embrace
in Her deep, resonant voice,

“Welcome home…Welcome home…”

and her children wrapped their laughter around us, in singing.
so we stayed in that place, and shook the shoes from our feet

as we pressed them, hard, against
the rough and sturdy root that rose from under the earth
in a lazy wave.

She felt like a memory from a yester-day from a long time ago;
or, was it a tomorrow?
something like the blush of a lover’s first kiss,

when you were someone else.

and then, the wind rushed in
like the Mother’s many children
and carried away with it that flickering thought;

but still, we stayed

and the low murmur of the heavy branches as she shook out her leaves
was an echo of the approaching voices


coming from our Brothers and Sisters as
they followed that still, same path
that carried us to that place where the earth smelled of  damp
and that dark skinned Brother who smiled at you
he took his hand-carved drum into his arms,
so lovingly

he lowered the drum to the ground as
he lifted his skirts to straddle it

his eyes flicked upward,

a tribute to the Old Mother

and I knew, then, that he heard it, too;
we felt it in his hands as the drum spoke,
vivid shades of blue, electric and pulsating
of the visible radiance as 

he joined her
resonant vibration 
Her song.


our Brother remembered, 
oh, yes,
yes he remembered
and he played it out, 
Her heartbeat
Her laboring breath
Her woman song

“h-uh. h-uh. h-uh.”

down in our bellies, we felt it, too
i remember
how it tightened my womb

“h-uh. h-uh. h-uh.”

and in the tightening of my breasts
and then, 
we laughed.

“Welcome home…Welcome home,”

She said again, our Mother
yours, and mine, and his, our Brother.
our hearts opened wide; 
we are free.



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    Julian Mongoose, age 6

    "What a lovely walk we had this afternoon; I recited as much of Allen Ginsberg's Howl that I could pull out of my rusty brain before switching to Sunflower Sutra (love!) and discussing its meaning, using big words with small definitions. Afterwards, we created a list of words to describe feelings of hysterical madness then screamed them as if our head's were going to explode. All in all, a pleasant walk."

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    November 2013
    October 2013

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