Pulling up roots

old roots were pulled

below the wind

pushing clouds

through barren branches

and a sun that seemed

to source these clouds

in a breath 

of iridescent essence

the roots held

the cool earth close

as a mother suckles a babe

the symbiosis hadn't 

realized full term

for it had come time

for roots to feed the soil now

but as often is the case

a human has other plans

 

High born Aken

we reached into

the sun

and the sun reached

into us

water flowed into

our lungs

to prevent our air

from igniting

the inner chasms

we had ran to

where we had hidden

ourselves

those chams filled

with the sun

we could no longer run

from ourselves

the light was so

piercing

it was so warm after

our frozen slumber

we felt on fire in its

presence

and we melted and surrendered

to the infiltration

The key for ki

the sudden stir

within each chakra

as the quakes in

the root and sacral

join tribal dances

of long ago and

of those yet to come

as solar plexus turns

in swirls

and echoes one and two

the heart ignites 

thrusting forward

to the beat of its call

the howling in the night

throat stretches calling

forth all the times

it was held prisoner

to break those chains

the pull of the third eye

out and beyond

reaching further

than the arm is long

further than the sight

can see

into realms unknown

those realms only known

to the crown that was

reinstated to shine

as a beacon for the others

to gaze and rise

 

Out of Pisces

how long have

we swam in this ocean

the depths where pressure

has plied our minds

with limitations and weight

a dormancy we've floated

in and through

as waves have carried

our harnessed bodies

far away from each other

but in a turning of the world

in a setting of the sun

and the rising of a new one

this ocean vanishes 

for us to find dry sand

beneath our feet

warm sun upon our flesh

clear sight within our eyes

and the will not of an ocean

but of our freed selves

to guide us on the return

Fly home

returning flights

feather within wind

bright burning chests

skip and bounce

against greening ground

while black tattered 

tips of wings

patiently float above

in their journey search

northern locales

have beckoned back

these lively and motley aviators

all in their proper timing

all in their allotted procession

to fly through 

tears from the clouds

and teeth of the fates

for reunion in their

northern homes

with weathered locals

of quacks and caws 

 

The translator

if it speaks on 

behalf of you

and it speaks

on behalf of me

what is it that

is exactly speaking

to the both of us

is it our heart

the shared connection

that holds us

that has taken

your hand

and holds my

hand too

and that will

place our hands

together some day

the whispers in the night

the smiles seen

just out of view

the hovering warmth 

the embodiment

is this an instrument

a guide for our voices

between our souls

Yearly days

in about three days

the balance will return

the light and dark will equal

the cold will retreat

the ice will thaw

the earth will wake

the sun will shine

the seeds will remember

the soul will shake

and free itself from

the foggy introspection

heart bells will ring

in the swirling breeze

warm hands will find

anxious shoulders

gentle fingers will find

necks anticipating their moves

as the geese take 

a northern trajectory