WE HAVE COME. by Jewel Mathieson

We have come to be danced
Not the pretty dance
Not the pretty pretty, pick me, pick me dance
But the claw our way back into the belly
Of the sacred, sensual animal dance
The unhinged, unplugged, cat is out of its box dance
The holding the precious moment in the palms
Of our hands and feet dance.
We have come to be danced
Not the jiffy booby, shake your booty for him dance
But the wring the sadness from our skin dance
The blow the chip off our shoulder dance.
The slap the apology from our posture dance.
We have come to be danced
Not the monkey see, monkey do dance
One two dance like you
One two three, dance like me dance
but the grave robber, tomb stalker
Tearing scabs and scars open dance
The rub the rhythm raw against our soul dance.
We have come to be danced
Not the nice, invisible, self-conscious shuffle
But the matted hair flying, voodoo mama
Shaman shakin’ ancient bones dance
The strip us from our casings, return our wings
Sharpen our claws and tongues dance
The shed dead cells and slip into
The luminous skin of love dance.
We have come to be danced
Not the hold our breath and wallow in the shallow end of the floor dance
But the meeting of the trinity, the body breath and beat dance
The shout hallelujah from the top of our thighs dance
The mother may I?
Yes you may take 10 giant leaps dance
The olly olly oxen free free free dance
The everyone can come to our heaven dance.
We have come to be danced
Where the kingdom’s collide
In the cathedral of flesh
To burn back into the light
To unravel, to play, to fly, to pray
To root in skin sanctuary
We have come to be danced
WE HAVE COME.

- Immanuel Suttner

I have tried on

and slipped out of

many identities

like a woman

in a changing room

trying to find

the clothes that

will make

everything alright

but nothing fits completely

tho bits and pieces stick to me

perhaps I am

a kind of hollow

resonant

identity mannequin

and somewhere beneath

my latest face

lies an infinite

open

unafraid

space

The night on the island (La noche en la isla) Pablo Neruda

All night I have slept with you

next to the sea, on the island.

Wild and sweet you were between pleasure and sleep,

...between fire and water.

Perhaps very late

our dreams joined

at the top or at the bottom,

Up above like branches moved by a common wind,

down below like red roots that touch.

Perhaps your dream

drifted from mine

and through the dark sea

was seeking me

as before,

when you did not yet exist,

when without sighting you

I sailed by your side,

and your eyes sought

what now--

bread, wine, love, and anger--

I heap upon you

because you are the cup

that was waiting for the gifts of my life.

I have slept with you

all night long while

the dark earth spins

with the living and the dead,

and on waking suddenly

in the midst of the shadow

my arm encircled your waist.

Neither night nor sleep

could separate us.

I have slept with you

and on waking, your mouth,

come from your dream,

gave me the taste of earth,

of sea water, of seaweed,

of the depths of your life,

and I received your kiss

moistened by the dawn

as if it came to me

from the sea that surrounds us.

{Pablo Neruda}

Some favourite Rumi

Come, come, whoever you are. Wonderer, worshiper, lover of leaving. It doesn't matter. Ours is not a caravan of despair. Come, even if you have broken your vow a thousand times Come, yet again, come, come.” -Rumi

A road might end at a single house,
but it is not love's road.
Love is a river.
Drink from it. -Rumi

I open and fill with love and
other objects evaporate.All
the learning in books stays put
on the shelf.Poetry, the dear
words and images of song, comes
down over me like mountain water. -Rumi

Kindness by Naomi Shihab Nye

Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.

Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.

Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and
purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you every where
like a shadow or a friend.

This is a rebel song- Sinead O'Connor

I love you my hard Englishman
Your rage is like a fist in my womb
Can't you forgive what you think I've done
And love me - I'm your woman
And I desire you my hard Englishman
And there is no more natural thing
So why should I not get loving
Don't be cold Englishman

How come you've never said you love me
In all the time you've known me
How come you never say you're sorry
And I do

Ah, please talk to me Englishman
What good will shutting me out get done
Meanwhile crazies are killing our sons
Oh listen - Engishman
I've honored you - hard Englishman
Now I am calling your heart to my own
Oh let glorious love be done
Be truthful - Englishman

How come you've never said you love me
In all the time you've known me
How come you never say you're sorry
And I do
I do

Ontological by Maggie Anderson

This is going to cost you.
If you really want to hear a
country fiddle, you have to listen
hard, high up in its twang and needle.
You can't be running off like this,
all knotted up with yearning,
following some train whistle,
can't hang onto anything that way.
When you're looking for what's lost,
everything's a sign,
but you have to stay right up next to
the drawl and pull of the thing
you thought you wanted, had to
have it, could not live without it.
Honey, you will lose your beauty
and your handsome sweetie, this whine,
this agitation, the one you sent for
with your leather boots and your guitar.
The lonesome snag of barbed wire you have
wrapped around your heart is cash money,
honey, you will have to pay.