Spirited

When I learned how the listening light invited my soul.    
Grace within dew clung to my scarlet scar free soul  
as I was witness to each trail wind that wove  
sounds of my name  
And you were beside me  
   
Little miss fix it with curls like Shirley Temple  
Spot lighted, high lighted crown of the sun  
I was a crescent moon shape shifting in unfolding dark,    
Earth on the soles of my socks.  
   
The sides of my puffy cheeks never looked softer  
brighter paler , more present than in that present moment  
Modelled in my being was a halo    
   
Perhaps I was your shadow  
   
We held hands confiding  
None saw into these deeper templates  
they never knew how mahogany tables  
resembled waxen scent where long lost ticking  
hides faint cuckooing clock  
   
Her antiquities left unfit for marmalade fingers  
we peeled oranges and watched the peelings fall  
on the twelfth day of Christmas  
each year  
   
when women spirit is faced    
unveiled in matriarchy  
they burned ever greens  
   
each year I remember  
Old woman  
She who was my cloud  
   
The one who was  
throne    
She of no face  
   
The one  
of becoming  
   
Anima  
of  
animas  
   
holding  
life  
at bay  
   
Sister  
let us once more  
share palms  
   
   
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