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i guess i'll be WWOOFing soon

I paint the islands with the color of manifestation.
I see their faces peer out of the water.
I want them to take me.      
                 I want
them to take me in.

Into the trees where my city-stiff bones can rest,
into sea milk where time has no song,
into the homes of Owl, Snake, Coyote
                 and Deer,
to where I have only visited inside dreams.

There are fleeting tastes where I am made whole
and the native tongue rolls from mine
like gratitude.
There are moments where the ancient drums
silently move the soles of my feet across dirt
where I am led
                 to another treasure;
sometimes a shell,
a feather or stone,
but mostly pieces of myself I have not yet discovered.

Could I take them into my home?
Could I give them something to call
                 themselves by?
For if my name is Eye
theirs could be Sun, as the light comes slow
and burns away all that is false
     in its path.
Then again I would trade my pair of pupils for a vision
                 any day.
I would trade my home for a tent of skin.

I would give the softest voice for hands of an island father,
them to the grain and mine to the children.
To the berries begat in bundles
in clusters of leaves lining the veins to the beach.
I would paint our lips one by one
                 the color of forgotten stories.
So there the islands paint manifestation back onto me.
Written by owlspeaks
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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