| Pachamama (Mother Earth) Song We dwell in her arms, within this love, Lover of the Universe I am a woman of the mountains. You are standing on my jawbone or hairline, and see my body as sunrise sheeted muscles of rock. I am sure of myself yet this morning when I awoke I glanced down to see the moon, full and mysterious as a locket, shining orb upon my chest. Perhaps it was wind in the trees or my eyelashes, but I saw it begin to move above me, rhythmical, the thoughts of a favorite lover. I was helpless. It felt like a weighted memory. I had just left farmland in a dream. I stretched, the morning soared into Canadian geese so small now they are black and white shards over a city-- and saw it slip, slip below my ribs, a flash across snow smattered ranges, touching me, touching, then roll so quickly out beyond the valley to the west. |
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