Copyright by Anna Davis 2023. All rights reserved.
When two lines collide
it’s a sacred thing.
When the curve of my map
meets the arc of your life
at just the right time,
we’re home.
In this nest
I dream awake
with your leathery. grounded paws.
Building a new branch
we are
learning from darkness
leaning towards lightness,
kindness, and hope.
Steady as a lion
with the sweetest wings
we are falcons
who mate for life.
I’ve been calling
prayers and feathers
out into the wind
for you.
I’ve been planting bulbs of faith
in the mud
of my patient
fire belly.
waiting through cycles
of life and death,
snowfall and spring
for the miracle
of rain.
Laurel and fern leaves chatter,
in applause
as the forest breaths
over moss.
she speaks,
something big
is coming.
A thunderstorm rolls
up against the mountain
over parched clay
and orange lillies
blue sky eyes
let loose in wet love
my rocks
are watered soft.
You’ve arrived.
Walked right into the skylight
of my own ribs,
of my poems.
I am in love
from the center of my heart
a place only God has known.
God, my Mother and Ben.
Ben, Great Spirit and Earth.
Mohonk Mountians, the Sky.
Thank you for hearing my prayers.
thank you for offering
coyote bones
on my doorstep
thank you for holding
wild flowers
in your arms.
thank you for all
that broke us both
into wholeness.
here, into oneness.
I am in love with you
from the clearest place
of Lake Awosting,
from the great mystery
of July’s dazzled sky.
I am in love with you
from deep knowing.
come be my Forest Wolf.
I am your Butterfly.
keep praying
keep opening
I will hold the vision and become
the kindest one
to ever let
live
through my hands
into your beautiful
soul skin
heart.
Every spring
my heart melts
with the mountain.
Awakened with the bears.
Keep opening, sweetheart.
Lessons come as rivers and as veins.
Be clear.
Be honest.
Forgiveness
is your greatest tool to freedom.
Touch the earth with your beautiful heart
And sing.
I am asking,
Help me give up all the beliefs
that don’t belong.
I am called back to the Light,
because the Light is where I came from.
As a spool unwinds into another,
what if -
instead of a human
I am a leaf
a fragment of a willow tree
a fabulous child of God
sipping life through colored hands
glowing gold with the sun
bending to receive
created from fire
born from stars
remembering the seed
sprung from caves
wearing
a crown of wisdom
that began before birth.
Every agitation
brings a lesson.
some teachings come quickly
as a skinned shin in the shower.
others, the slow turn
of a wooden burl
into an offering bowl
beside bed.
When I was a child, someone told me
I sang off key.
what is the Great Silence telling me?
SING.
What are the teachings
of despair,
claw marks,
an abandoned friend?
I love myself,
and I forgive you.
Our wounds whisper,
howl and stab.
I must own mine
to let them go.
Every prayer becomes faith
that transforms a fight
into radiant light.
Walking into God,
we become one another
we become one other’s healer.
Each child,
a sacred sanctuary,
forever and ever
coming home.
The only job I truly have
is to keep
coming home.
In the center
of my being, is a tiny thread of gold,
an eternal cord
into the heart of spring.
as simple as
the snowflake,
a tear, then mist.
we are each
a drop of water
falling into
this sacred sanctuary of life
onto the child’s tongue,
through a sister’s eye,
feeding the forest roots at dawn.
The trunk
the leaves
reach like veins of a lung
towards the core of the sun.
as melting snow transforms
a crystal into waking breath,
from mist
on the face
of a lake
into sacred sky.
As your entire life
comes home.
as your entire life
aligns
with Love.
In the darkness
of winter and ice
we come as a circle of women.
we come down off the shelf,
opened and singing.
an only child finds a sister
a buried child finds her breath.
together, we unpack
the mystery of our fathers
lovers, mothers
untying broken shoes.
we offer in our set of tools
pencils, stories, drums and oars
shelters, songs, maps and bread.
energy lost becomes energy found.
we are shepherds
and we are the sheep.
together we hold
hearts in the snow.
in this circle we feel our dreams
and burn our demons.
The Tribe of Light
Circle of Women
Warriors of Love.
one voice becomes a choir
digging deep into the earth
picking bones, licking wounds
pulling brush,
planting seeds
untying knots of weathered hair.
bearing witness
blessed and blooming
we wash our feet
in tears.
steps come to be a dance
this dance becomes an arch
through this arch
we find The Way
and migrate towards the sun.
the sun becomes a loaf of bread
body, then a hand.
each hand has a tool
these tools become an army
a thriving tribe that will survive.
the fur, tail, lungs, the heart
all create the wolf
each piece becomes the whole
the whole becomes the leader
and that leader
becomes One.
I have been learning how to die,
it is quite a beautiful thing, to let go
alive.
My body is for you.
She may have it, the Earth
my have it.
Water, please take some.
Friends, please have some too.
It is yours as it is mine, really.
As air
as it is bone, really.
What we are left with, after the giving
is my Light, in love with your Light.
While we both ignite and practice
Alive, dying.
Alive, dying.
The first glimpse of daybreak
cracks through cold branches,
an inhale of sweet bliss
after the lingering silence of winter.
The soft bloom
of our light returning
as a woman,
an opened iris wing
through the washed depths
of weighted stones
at night.
All is well. All is reborn.
All is so alive.
There is darkness
some afternoons
as the sun begins to blink
back behind the shoulders
of the black mountain.
It calls to me,
this darkness licks my ankles
Sweetheart,
come to the tip
of the slippery top step,
let's teeter and test
the density of emptiness
falling underground.
Then there is the light
singing from the soft curves of snow.
I am having a love affair
with God.
The sweet honey of belonging.
Remembering.
She says
Dear child
you are loved. We are
always breathing.
Step into the sovereign snow
of sacred stillness.
We will thaw as one,
into spring.
I have never loved the winter
quite as fully
as I now love
this sober snow.
it happened
on south mountain road
whirling home
by bike
in summer.
i was falling towards something, careening downhill
absorbed in the beauty
of this aloneness
a frontier unfolding like a wing
a wing
she dove across
the road
my forehead met her feather
we could have collided
one sweeping touch
of sacred
into the other.
in that moment
our prayers combined.
Don't be afraid of who you are becoming.
Listen deeply
and meet yourself, who is
Your Companion.
i turned to face her.
she landed
softly
watching.
Love your darkness, lean in
with alert and patient eyes.
What we are made of
will in turn
be born
into something new.
The earth is a womb,
my womb is an altar.
come, let's pray.
the body, this body
a garden rooted to the core
of a sacred rising sun.
under thick folds of fresh snow,
a rose blazes from my heart.
a golden heart, the heart of the deer.
the lioness, the condor, the moon.
each bloom, an untangled gift
an open blessing
a sparkle arc
a rainbow bridge
to God.
blooming a woman
blooming holy
blooming nourishment
the sweetness of being wild
with curves of the miraculous forest.
the earth is a womb
my womb is an altar,
come, let's pray.
dance open with wings of
ancient hummingbirds
together
come, let's pray.
Curled in a loop of speckled, damp fur
i found the fawn
lost in the folds of unkept brambles
crying like a baby bike horn
with black, wet stones for eyes,
a cluster of stars on her back.
she stands
heavy atop toothpicks
and hobbles towards my pant leg,
searching for love, for mamma.
i hear you, little one.
i have been singing
for you.
i sit, she trembles closer.
my inner light child
filled with possibility
grace, rainfall
such sweetness, is here.
i take her body into my heart
as a white owl moon,
and hold her in my healing wings
whisper into the ocean of her beating chest
you are not alone, little one.
we toss away all darkness, together
and turn all the pain
into love.
We split like the slice of an apple
skinned in shock,
stunned open
teetering on the Birdseye maple
cutting board.
Drop the metal shards, words.
Drop the armor of fear, fists.
Drop Everything. Even your dreams,
your hopes,
the unborn,
the thick cloak
keeping the frost from the last stems of basil.
Let it burn cold at dawn
and wilt back
to the tender place it began,
among bones.
Breathe trees.
Lean towards the light, where love is
not where it isn't.
Clear cut the cord
that ties you to anyone
or anything
frightened to meet the Magnificent,
unwilling to claim your devotion,
your sacred heart
among tangled weeds.
This will be the last time
we breathe life into our failures.
The path is an elegant branch,
it curves,
spiraling deep into the center
into the place you never left
into the place you are
always
born.
I have been darkness. I have been vacant and cold. I have been torn from the wall, I have been crumpled into a ball and tossed to the fire for heat. I have been angry. I have been shot with arrows. I have been sliced apart, I have lost my voice. I have been silent. I have been deaf. I have been blind. I have run away. I have cheated, I have chased, I have lied. I have punished, I have been ashamed. I have been afraid. I have been lazy. I have taken what wasn't mine to take. I have used you. I have used you again. I have been selfish. I have watched myself die. I have been numb. I have been picked from a tree, I have been pulled from the sea. I have been cornered. I have used my teeth. I have used my claws, my lips, my tail, my fingers. I have fallen to the ground. I am compost. I am earth. I am ash.
I hand it all over to you, Great Spirit.
I am Ganga, I am water. I am breath. I am the spark of a match, I am here. I am a woman. I am whole, I am breath. I am enough. I am Durga. I am Lakshmi, Hanuman. I am the Phoenix. I am service. I am service. I am humility. I am vertical. Upright. I am the witness. I am the baby deer, I am the black bear, the porcupine, the panther. The moth. I am endless sky, I am snow. I am moon. I am lake, I am leaves. I am food for the family. I am warmth. I am a conduit of light. I am song. I am art. I am a lover. I am a sister, a daughter. I am a mother. I am grace. I am feather, I am fur, I am bone. I am a listening. I am forgiving. I am opening. I am trusting. I am giving. I am letting go. I am loving. I am loving. I am loving. I am arms. I am legs. I am eyes, lungs, hands, feet, yoni, belly, breath. I am the owl song, the coyote cry. I am rainbow. I am seeds. I am sewn. I am growing. I am freedom.
Thank you for seeing me. Thank you for teaching me. Hearing me, tasting me, holding me. Taking all and forgiving me.
Thank you. I love you. Thank you.
In from the downpour
combing knots from tangled hair,
turning fear
of the unknown
into beautiful faith.
turning shame
into bottomless grace.
the stories I've told
my entire life -
tonight, I will bury these books
in a field, let the pages
soften into soil
as flesh off the bone
to nourish mushrooms,
sweet peas and mint.
after pain
the breakthrough comes
through a sip of water.
my heart,
a deer in the forest,
has been offered completely
to God.
who is that walking from the fog
I think it's God
coming out of a mystic's heart
coming out of tall pines
deep within canyon lines
of my own hand.
fierce as Lightning
gentle as Moth
cracked as Egg
breathing as Hummingbird
unwavering
as Buffalo.
You, were in me all along
singing tenderly
from,
then into
a basin of blue
this woman's eye
the entire sky
of us.
I surrender
I surrender, Great Spirit.
God, what keeps you out
and keeps me in
has passed through
the screen door
as rain.
There is a name
for the empty place
in the heart of us
to be filled
with grace -
The God Hole.
My shield, the fortress
has lifted with the night sky.
you have free range
to aim
and see my heart.
i hold two needles
one in each hand
steering the points towards one another
and they
have finally
touched.
connected a miracle.
this is sobriety.
a compass in hand, it has twelve steps.
an ore and a boat and a rudder.
God is the wind, the sail
the water.
this is
living sober.
sailing among the stardust
of all we will become.
there is a garden
by the front of the house
on the shoulder of the stairs.
it's been wild and wondering.
i've begun to tear it of her weeds.
God fills this garden
and herbs begin to grow
into a Goddess.
I am sprigs of basil
on the kitchen counter.
I am the illuminated,
fragrant earth.
Come see my heart,
now the real work begins.
This love belongs to the moon.
Your pendulum swings
a machete through the soft poppies
a guard rail into the truck
I was driving
across the continent
in search of sacred water.
Take out your tools, woman.
Build a boat.
Sage the hearth.
Gather your poems, books, arrows, God
your art meditations
and drum
the heartbeat back
before the baby deer
was ever born.
Praise praise praise
Father Sky
Mother Crystal Cave
for the gift of a broken bough
into this sea
of you and me.
Feel the wholeness
of my own beautiful hands
which are the truest makers.
I am stronger than my lungs and bones.
The teachings come
from upturned soil.
Even this deep ache valley
will lift the warrior heart
into another realm of
open peak.
We are each filled
with innumerable Gods.
A Sacred Goddess is
Her own heart's witness
Internal mystic,
a being of light
eternally and evermore
Her own.
Where is the light in the heart tree
of me?
At the edge of the woods
under a white sky
beyond dark, muddy paths
and months of tired, worn snow
I touch the bark
kick up leaves
scouting for signs
of maple
between the ash, tulip and oak.
I've never tapped a tree before.
I've been living dormant,
an inkling of magnificence inside.
I've been told light will come
at the thaw of dawn
when I turn my will to God.
Drill a hole, hammer spiles
set buckets on eight
thick, calloused trunks
and wait for warmth
to call up threads
of slightly sweetened sap,
to awaken rivers
of illumination.
Awaken something
back into life
that is
possibly magnificent.
Possibly more than I alone
have known
with my single
shattered
and stirring
sprung heart.