June 2009

Weight Of The World

Soil by lamplight,

Forest trees hiss your name in springtime storms.

No rain,

No thunder,

Just the trees and their voices

(Voices like cobras, souls like garter snakes).

The warm glow on mud creates open eyelid portals,

Leading to the center of gravity.

That is the weight of the world.

Footprints in bog soil,

Tree roots rise as mothers’ arms,

Holding me by the feet,

In place and in space.

They center my gravity.

By lamplight, I long for the sound of your name,

But not how it is hissed by the oaks and the pines.

I need to hear it from my lips.

I part them to speak it,

But springtime storms enforce the silence.

They extinguish the lamp,

And I am left at the mercy of gravity in the dark.

The weight of the world watches in soil.

The weight of the world watches in soil.

From the shadows,

The weight of the world will lunge for my chest

(Voice of the cobra).