what am I following?
the wind is too strong
the sun is too bright
the sea is enormous
I can only sing to the earth
each day is new, and each day is my last
what am I following?
the wind is too strong
the sun is too bright
the sea is enormous
I can only sing to the earth
each day is new, and each day is my last
see, we chose to live here
on the cusp of the fault line
like we’re holding
two lands together
like Kapiti holding
the lay-lines
and the chief straddled the sea
to find sanctuary, we chose this
duel tectonic
polarities – earth water
the principled, the flowing
the fear, the strength
the silent, the out-spoken
we chose this burden
as our offering
we took this tectonic
movement into our care
we sit in the lap
in the contractions
and wild orgasms
of the earth
we put our house here
our streets, our railway lines
we sent all our machinery
down and she rolled with us
we chose to live here
between her thighs
as she gives birth
we are her midwives and her doulas
we chose to attend
to this sacred
service
How did we come to water,
or water come to us…
because we needed to drink, yes
but it’s drawn out like emotions, teased
into existence, because
we had to master survival,
like there’s a rhythm for us to learn.
How did we come by air,
because it’s invisible to us really
so innate, intrinsic, inherent
and yet at one point, someone said
we breath… Air. And now
we think and think
and think, like we deserve it.
How did we respond to earth
as something under us,
or in our way, or to be climbed over.
How did we skip over the grace
of our earth in a few short decades,
and not see every variation
as part of our survival.
How did we learn about fire,
watching it burst into heat
and light and roar with total
indifference, and somehow we kept
a little parcel of this sacred,
held by sacred people
to light the way.
dance free
remember the earth
bend down and touch
as your arms fly
around
wish upon a star
make a promise on a
rainbow