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Posts Tagged ‘Deep Water’

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She prayed to the gods,

“let me make love

to the trees in your forest”

but the gods were silent.

And so she implored them again

“let me couple with the creek

that sings through your valley,

bear me up

to embrace your mountains,

cradle me down

to mate with the sea”

but again the gods were silent.

And once more she cried out

with trembling heart,

“grant me consummation

with the universe this night!”

And once more

the gods were silent

but this time

they sent to her

a shaman,

one who was desiring

the same.

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(c) 1995, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-post)

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When she called his name

to the north wind

it roared

through the trees

and made her winter green.

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When she called his name

to the mountainside

it rose

up the ridge

like a fever.

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When she called his name

to the racing sky

it echoed

like a dozen geese

searching for a season.

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When she called his name

to the ocean

it churned

to salt butter

on her toast.

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When she called his name

to a sliver of moon

it hung like a lamp

on the dark side

of doubt

and this time she knew

that he heard.

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(c) 1995, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-post from 2013)

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Shaman man,

you knew every fold

hidden in the riddling

curtain of reality.

You saw the bare

bones of motive,

the underpinnings

of facade.

You were strength and power.

But you also knew tenderness,

the sweet kiss

on the cheek of a lover

slumbering in your bed.

But alas, you also knew

when to go.

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Oh Shaman man

do not doubt another season,

a time not jaded

by an overdose of obstacle.

For when we touch

again, we’ll have

a thousand years to spare.

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© 2014, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-post)

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She holds a sphere

of white hot light

in hands stretched high

to reach the night.

“Oh Eros”, she prays secretly,

“come take this round

of your creation,

guard its flame

forever more

and I’ll dance gratefully

in the embers,

one man’s fire

seared into my palm.

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(c)  1995, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-post)

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Howling Wolf

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I feel your drumbeat

in the cosmic symphony –

music becomes you.

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(c) 2013, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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(A re-post)

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He trekked north

with the vernal sun

carving his name

across her sky

so she would not forget.

And as he touched

those new frontiers

she wondered, had anyone

conquered her so?

When spring returns

will the sun reach as high,

or will it stop short

of her maiden arc

and will she hear wild geese cry?

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(c) 1996,  2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-post)

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He could climb

a rock-cold mountain,

guard lost lambs

on faceless cliffs

and she would circle round

to warm his earth.

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And he could carve his image

into a totem pole

of selves

on top of selves

and she would kiss the tower

of rising heads.

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And he could blow new colors

from his hemlock pipe

and she would paint them

on her cheeks

while he peeled back

the many masks

of God.

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(c) 1995, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-post – formerly “Biding”)

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