The Praise of breaking


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.