to the place in you
where fire and silence dwell —
the place of power.
to that pool in you
of weedless water —
the place of knowing.
the moss bright path
to your Grandmother’s house —
the place of song.
to the last strawberry —
the freshness of God.
From Firesong (Aotearoa New Zealand:
Steele Roberts Ltd.), copyright 1999.
All rights reserved.
Posted with kind permission of the poet.
At first we just say flower. How thrilling it is to name. Then it’s aster….
Today I will praise. I will praise the sun For showering its light On this…
If I spell my name in bruised melanin and ink …
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