Tuesday, August 4, 2009

My Circle

My Circle

I woke into the circle of my life

Under a silver shawl of dew
shining on my skin
and my nails
and my hair

I wore the fronds of ferns
the mould of dead leaves
and bits of bark that had been
scratched by squirrels

I opened my throat
and howled

like a wolf
like a wave
like a wind

I felt joy
and then power
touched my cheek

I was

I spoke to a particle
and it gave me
good advice

I called to a swallow
and it showed me a
delicate map

I smiled at an owl
in a camelthorn tree
and it blinked
its great eyes
into a desert

As if by magic
the owl conjured up
a salty whale
steaming in the Ocean
It slapped its great black tail
and scattered my stars
all across the lonely sky

A bear looked up
and shook its head

A tiger growled

A giraffe walked
the grassy plain

At the lake’s edge
a goose
nestled down
on its eggs

Deep in a tree’s roots
a wombat
curled up warm
with its baby

An old mountain

A bat fluttered
and then settled
in a pitch-dark cave

A dry seed
broke into a wet life

I lay on the floor of the forest
a mollusc
divided from
an impossible shell

In celebration
I burnt the fern fronds
the leaf mould
and the bark
scratched by squirrels

I breathed in the grey smoke
of an unknowable future

And I died.

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