returning song

The Desert has a way of calling in
wanderers, rebels, prophets
poets trying to remember the old agreements between life
   and death

There is a conversation happening out here
between the stones and lizards
birds, plants, sun
   and water

Look, the canyon-bound creosote
lifts her fragrant, delicate fingers
to pray for the clouds
which bring both rain
   and floods

Listen, the cactus-wrens
sharp song of brilliance 
rings out across the naked earth
calling in both her lover
   and the hawk

Do you now remember
Her face?

The terrifyingly unfathomable beauty
of the One who holds creation and destruction
in perfect balance

Do you now remember
Her womb?

That formless immensity
from which you were formed
and delivered into the womb of your mother

Do you now remember
Her voice?

When She sang the bones, dreams
and wild heart of you into being
as an old crone gathers herbs from the forest floor

Remember Her now

For as surely as the canyon floods
   and the hawk dives
She now turns Her face
   towards you, humming the gentle tune
of returning, calling you

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