Dancing With Him
high sweet voices floating suspended
sunlight filtering multicolored through dusty air
a solemn procession watched in silence
as the men talk of a god beyond your sight
you listen to their mumblings
their commands
you will never hear the voice of your god
with your own ears
forever a spectator, shut out
unworthy to exchange words with the source
of your world
but I have touched the face of the Divine
my god walks beside me
the shape of His body informs my visions
His velvet voice
(a warm breeze behind my ear)
narrates my dreams
He is sunlight on my skin
hands like oak encircling my fingers
the tree I lean again, He is
(rough bark against my back) your god is the high airs
invisible, unreachable
mine is warm sand hard-packed
the wet smells of the deep forest your god speaks in texts
copied over down the centuries
a voice ancient and unknowable
mine whispers Holy Words in the darkness
pushing deep against my cervix
howling wild at the Moon He is a glimpse of antlers through the trees
gray fur and gleaming fanged smile I left your god long ago
(cold lover, unresponsive
he does not hear the voice of women)
preferring a god with needs and desires
who delights in my praises and
shivers at my touch you can trudge the road to heaven
eyes turned ever
towards the cold and distant clouds
I will tread the steps of the holy dance
feet shifting figures in the sand
eyes and hands held in balance
with the Lord of Life —Rowan Rose | 
