The Birch Forest        

The hands, the lips, the voice I loved

The skin, the step the song I knew

Thrown into the four winds

 

A memory of Dismemberment 

The way back drawn on sinking sand

Of shores licked into Lethe

 

Here,

Upon these Crossroads

The mead of Godhood caught my sinning breath

And drunk on miracles I soared

Into a Sky full of hands that could not smite me

 

Until the lakes bellow

Saw me with new eyes

And wide open mouths they fixed to catch

The raining milk of Wisdom

Through the cracking whipping roar of thunder-opened sky

Lightning scorching the Earth

 Into a painting of scars 

 

As a Balsam it fell 

A honeyed trickle…

To feed and grow

Into a forest of Birch

As old as the Wound

And young as the Healing 

 

At the heart of the Dreamtime.