Cicada Triad pushes and pulls
The weeds my ancestors laid.
We are not children any longer
Warriors in training, muscles in fine tuning, tilling
Legacies dripping with tar and with blood
One by one to the surface of consciousness
It is time.
The birth of a new nation and the 19th of June.
All of the amulets scatter to homes
Of families who have lost a brother, a sister
A son, a daughter
Whose stares still
Point in the eye of her cortex.
We know not what we do.
Reckon with yourself, ancestors.
Who are you to take a life of this spirit
Rejoicing in their river of light
A truth so powerful not even a gun could take away.
An interruption to the softness of flesh
A birthday that shares Bastille Day
A tightness in tendons connecting
Tissue to ligament to bone.
All of the systems that hold us together.
Every cord of every nerve unraveled
De-strangled, to a pile of knots
Laying entombed in the squash patch.
A maple's arms stretch out towards the endless sky
To a space not yet felt
What does peace feel like
Dappled sunlight on a fractured, softened log
Somewhere in the woods near our home
A young bear scampers along the treeline
Signals to us that something is coming.
Ocean blue fingerprints splayed out on the page.
Blueprints for our future.
Can poetry, can mushrooms, can curiosity
Save us
The golden yellow patches in my drawings
Affirm. The aloe on my reddened breast.
The piercing green of our cat's eyes.
The electric magenta of the grandmothers'
Silkened robes, glittering in golden flits.
Decentralize your mission, roll in the mud
Centralize your body into being, becoming
Sign your new documents of commitment
The birth of a whole new way.
Tell me what you long for
Let's go there together
On ships led by moonlight
A joining of tangles
A pulse of life that beats
Rising from the basal ganglia
The call of the 10,000 voices
The standing in the power
The sucking of water through gapped teeth
Ready to create worlds of prosper.
The dormant vessel springs to life.