Tuesday, September 02, 2008


"Our birth
is but a sleep
and a forgetting."

--William Wordsworth

I am
before my mother carried me,
tethered me to earth
with a silver cord,
before I flew prayer feathers
at my Father's knee,
there, where a million moons roll
like black-glass marbles
into the curved valleys of space
before I ever dreamed of earth,
or things of earth: fish
or rocks or bread,
before the luminous waters
of my birth washed me clean,
I am
I always am

--Written for Rick's most wonderful painting yet,painted on English linen and cotton, Supernatural Bridge (Red Shoes).


rick said...

Beautiful, my dear. You have a gift, and you keep it moving.

By the way, clicking on your name in the my comments leads to a dead link. I edited the address, adding .blogspot.com and that works but only from that comment on my blog. Somewhere in blogger controls you can add that to correct the broken link, but I don't know where that is. xox rick

Jo said...

Yep, beautiful it is, this flows like something molten.

Brendan said...

Exquisite ... a sweet bath in the million-year dreamtime.