Day 188
My computer files say that I wrote this poem, but for the life of me, I cannot remember writing it. Mind you: I ain't complain'.
YEMAYA’S FLIGHT
Yes, she said, of course I’ll go. I love the
Earth’s bloom in their bellies, the way
My daddy’s mouth blooms
A rose with his horn,
Yearning his way to mama’s heart.
After a world’s wander
She came home to find
Him waiting, sifting the air of
Every clue of her, hearts
Racing towards me and why not?
Each day I counted towards my plunge
& was I ever ready—
Sleek bird in flight, osprey’s
Wild bliss, sparrows in spiffy weskits
I’d hired for the party,
My party in June,
My prayer in the stillest nights.
I ask but one thing:
Need yourselves as you’ve kneaded me,
Graceful grace grown growing.
[3 July 2006
pascal / the limestone archiviste: another of mother yemaya’s babes]
It's coming back to me now.
YEMAYA’S FLIGHT
Yes, she said, of course I’ll go. I love the
Earth’s bloom in their bellies, the way
My daddy’s mouth blooms
A rose with his horn,
Yearning his way to mama’s heart.
After a world’s wander
She came home to find
Him waiting, sifting the air of
Every clue of her, hearts
Racing towards me and why not?
Each day I counted towards my plunge
& was I ever ready—
Sleek bird in flight, osprey’s
Wild bliss, sparrows in spiffy weskits
I’d hired for the party,
My party in June,
My prayer in the stillest nights.
I ask but one thing:
Need yourselves as you’ve kneaded me,
Graceful grace grown growing.
[3 July 2006
pascal / the limestone archiviste: another of mother yemaya’s babes]
It's coming back to me now.
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