Life cycle of the Divine

In the first summer, she exhaled her divine spark –
took it in her hands and fashioned it
into a golden arrow, gleaming and long.

Notching back her bow, she aimed it high,
arms quivering in effort from her deep draw,
fingers blistering as she loosed it into the night.

A ringing sound broke the silence as
it cut the air like a gold comet thrown
by the hands of god at the heart of the moon.

Free from spirit her body fell into shadows,
her listless eyes watched the sky, oblivious
as to what could, would happen next.

Her arrow of creation plunged into the moon,
a slow seep of golden glow overtook
the usual silvery light welling from the center.

Erupting in orange gold flames the moon
became molten, burning steadily,
until nothing more than a shower of glowing ashes.

The heavens blessed this shower as it fell to earth,
down through the sky onto the archer,
chasing away darkness and shadows.

She alone stood in the field under a moonless sky,
covered in the ash of moon and creation,
rediscovered, reborn, renewed.

The journey she began as woman, as arrow
as the moon shining down, culminated in the
exhalation, piercing the layers of who she was.

Literary Fornix

They two danced in and out of words
like ying and yang, they pulled and pushed
one another, creativity ebbed and flowed
between their minds, one muse.

So when he slows and is quiet,
she races forward, fingers gliding
along the keyboard
as if she were composing music.

Music speaks to him, he sings along,
lost in the lyrics, no time to write,
but the tides feel the pull of the moon,
and she looks back over her shoulder.

The sight of him distracts her,
and she drifts in reverie as he
spins his own words into story,
a novelist at heart.

Can you keep up poetess
his eyes ask, her smile
says try me, and the night
is filled with keystrokes.

Puzzling out myself

Write! says the voice in my head
and so my fingers fly
words spinning out of nothingness
darkness invading
pushing me evermore down.

This is your constant
Always will it welcome you
back into the darkess.

Fractured fragments
of heart felt dreams
lie lifelessly, listlessly
forgotten on the floor -
Who would want them now?

A jigsaw puzzle missing pieces
misunderstood art
I am passed over
in the bargain bin.

I am my own worst enemy
I argue with myself
and no one interjects
on my behalf.

And so on
and so on it goes,
pushing me forward
telling me to write
commanding me
in imperative tones
I cannot ignore.

Senex

Eight nights we been here,
gathered in celebration,
all in your honor.
your favorite foods prepared-
spread out on the long table.

Tonight we turned your bed
to lean against the wall,
You will pass from the house,
through the celebration and
into the ground.