A Poem's You

An anonymous message, today-

It wasn’t from you.

You, being Divine Wholeness.

I wonder if I could ask you

To manifest,

Beyond narrative and Meditation,

As new media

Accessible as guidance

Into beauty, into connection.

You, being Earth,

For whom I do not cease yearning.

What if I were to lay my body down

On grassy property,

Melted into you

In plain view

On a New York world

So unbelieving

In liberation

And soil?

You, being Mother,

Warrior,

Co-signer in living and existing,

Leaving messages

In strange places, blocks

With strange ideas

About a world made of fabric—

Textile earth and threaded limbs.

You are no longer a question.

You are laughter that eludes me.

Prayer

When asking for me,
Don't be afraid--
Do it out loud,
On the water;
Call up a tempest
In my name.

Go ahead and laugh
When you find me,
Multiplying in the fire
of your candles.

Your house is small,
and you tower
above the daunting blaze
Of black magic.

Ayiti

In my absence, you grew

Uncontrolled

Fevered

In the throes of a seamless puberty

Riding wild

With file and machete

Consuming rape

And lending fervor to

Scandalized waste;

The prostitution of a voice

That you scarcely let me hear

And a face that you forbade me to see

Out of fear for the moment;

A present

Sans architect

That performs the deconstruction

Of sacred-ness

In a voluminous movement

That defies recognition.

You are burning without grace,

And I am shamed beneath the snow banks

Of your unrepentant talents,

Cold, in exile.