Stone Woman

1.

Sun, my center

dances to release the wind you warm

forward toward the stream

where we sparkle over stones

where we brave face

the new world

holding ourselves within

pillars of pure light

where my thighs hold

the secret.

Do you want to know and unfold

me?

I have this gift to offer:

I do not need, I love.

2.

In between grass blades, crazed ants

search for hunger drives them

up larger hills and greater feasts,

into dragging the King Kong

of insects over hills

down canyons toward

where we are going, with hunger

on our backs, held in our teeth,

moving over mountains to the bottom

of the ocean to find the place we remember

where lover scented sheets

await us

and the taste of the Earth awakens

us to choose now transform.

3.

Thousands of years ago

I held you in my arms.

Here I am again holding you.

That will never stop.

The sun on our shoulders

reminds us to be still

bellies touch the earth

reach down into miles

of dirt, crystal, stone,

reach and reaching

she reaches with her molten

core into our center.

4.

Playing with light

mesmerized by the healer

whose hands fill my pores

with almond oil and cedar.

Whose fingers take away

what I held for so long.

Through the window, clouds unburden themselves

of long held secrets,

speak of the ice storm that took the lover down,

tearing away her arms and legs,

falling into snow.

It is spring so the broken branches float now

on the marshes, sink into the wet earth’s hunger.

The tree does not mourn

what is not loss, but shakes its body

lighter now and breathes bold blood into bud.