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Love Song to My Sister (part two)

II.
and there was that time
when we were a child
and we could see
really see
and we kept perfect harmony with the wind
or was it the moon
as she pushed and she pulled the waters

later, she would pull at our wombs
but we knew nothing of that
or, then again, maybe we did
we may not have remembered just yet

we could see through the wind
and what we saw at the other side made us laugh
sometimes, we went to the other side
and we were at home, and we could fly
i never wanted to come back from that place, did you?

was that you, or me?
sometimes, I forget, but I do

remember the Magic

it wasn’t God, or Goddess, or the Universe then,

it was One.

this is where I lived with you.

we lifted our voices
they rang in a clear song,
and it felt like love

thank you…thank you…

the song absorbed into the Old Mother
we became a part of Her;
She had been holding onto us that whole time, saying,

“Don’t slip away…

Come home… Come home…”

i felt how much She loved you then,
as if it were love for me,

and it was

and it was love for her children who lived in the forests.
they would come to us then,
curious to see their own faces reflected in our own.

we stood, 
still 
as 

stone,


facing one another,
in absolute quiet,

waiting
to see
what
would
happen?

if we moved,
it might stop
and we 
would be back
on the other side
of the wind

so 
we were still
and remained,
transported.

“who am i?”
“why are we?”

and the wind circled us then,

“Shhhhhhhhh….”

it soothed
and caressed,
and so
we 
were 
still.

don’t move

muscle.

don’t make

sound.

only

heartbeat.

yours,

mine,

the Old Mother’s,

One.

and then,

like

a stick

tossed

into

still

water,

                                ping….

the smallest

sound,

rippling out.

The sound

of a

bell?

i did hear something
from far away…

yesterday?

just now?

i want my Mother.

“Come Home.”

 


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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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