Apocryphal
I give my life to the wind; to
the fossils, the spirit, and the earth.
I leave my thoughts to the termites that
linger beneath the sod, to the falcon in the
firmament, and to the animals that mate on
our planet floor.
To my mother: a word and a prayer.
I sew my being to her cosmos.
I am the planet, the weed, the bird, the
antelope, and the babe begotten by
Mother Nature.
To nature: I speak from naked thoughts — with
a primal mind and a void conscience. With
bare feet I tread — without cause or reason.
For loneliness is futile when corn sprout and
birds wait for harvest.
The harvest is within: like tubers within the
earth, like the mammoth decayed within the
grave, like my heart shelved within my ribs.
I leave the rib, the garment, and my lance to
the vultures and the sparrows of the Amazon.
To the crowd: I commit a dirge.
I take the hymn, the flute, and the lyric from
dead men, from monsters, from skirmished souls and
demigods raving in isolation.
To the bird, I commit a song; the seer, a
revelation; to the eagle, the eyes of an owl, the
Iguana, talons, and to my unborn child, a crown.
To this voice, I write an echo; the heavens, I
weave wonder; the gods, I commune with
contrite words.
And to poetry, I leave my soul.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment