within this country of perpetual surprise
she inhabits the seven storied house
atop the mountain she writes our fates
illuminated pages in her golden notebook
stepping from the root of the cosmic tree
guiding souls into the world
she invested painting with the power
to circumscribe my time
a metronome marking the elaborate
science of observation, the creation
of self, phrasing, without pause,
these excruciating and ecstatic moments
in brushstrokes saturated with the
pathos of a portrait in blue
my transgression from tradition
metalanguage of spontaneity,
inspired inscriptions
perhaps the mother of cradles,
beside this lake of milk,
will open the portal of being
breathe life into another
fulfilling my desire to embody
Ajysyt, birth giver,
cup gently your warm hands,
form an offering bowl
smiles….we are resonating a bit today i think…love the transgression of tradition stanza….has a nice hip hop thump…and new birth, that is always inspiring…a blessing
How beautiful. A friend of mine recently had happy news. Knowing how she hoped and thought it hopeless, this poem seems to befit her I think.