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 |