 "Bhuddess" |
Grounding |
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The pool of nectar That exudes from the lips of orchids Seethes with ecstasy Among myopic intuitions A drop falls on the mirror! The eye sees itself The kiss of mud earth sticks to the bodies That roll in bliss That belong in the womb of mother earth, She who steams and gurgles with life's gases Beckons us to fall. The below beckons us to sleep and understand. The below calls with its irresistible voice, Its thread of vegetable and reptilian arms Wrapping around our bodies Surrounding our spirit world with the love of dirt and water, We weep with joy As the mud cakes to our skin and drys to Become the desert, that clean slate Where the imagination lies waiting for the water. The balls of our feet point heavenward as we rejoice Our backs lie flat on the rough surface of the river bottom As She (the imagination) drowns us with her beautiful pictures The dreams, the architecture unknown.
She is a cave, She weeps with the rain She soaks the sweat of the earth body She becomes a river whose beginning and end are not known She drowns the innocent and captures the daring She destroys the evidence She is the blade that slices the mother But that which possesses the body She is the daughter of the body, the body Of earth, the solid, the inert. She is the life line of potency Her presence is illusive, but escapes not The definition of the shadow Whose depth proves the surface of the material, the bread on which we rely to sustain and to rot, creating the floor of our eternal bed the Mother is below, as the images fly through the maze of seminal hearing we lie with her always.
-LaDonna Smith
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