Poem: Talking With Kijâ – Thy Mother

Talking With Kijâ - Thy Mother

7-9-2008

"Good morning," I say to kijâ with my feet,
As I gently walk on the Earth,
She responds back,
Gently whispering,
Gently slowing me down,
Gently helping me remember the fine dazzelment,
That is each and every leaf,
Bark,
Seed,
Dirt,
And she slows me down,
The rapidness that the concrete induces,
The quickening of my speech,
My writing,
My movements,
Are all slowed down by nature,
By kijâ,
Inheritance of abundance unexplainable,
My heart beats slower,
My breath deeper,
My movements slower,
Destiny affirmed in her beauty,
In her touch on my feet,
In how she holds me,
As if she reaches,
As if the dirst,
Sand,
Twigs,
Pebbles,
And compost of all molds my feet,
As if the plants reach and listen,
As perfect counselors,
As if the trees lean over to listen,
All in the perfect workings of kijâ,
To fill up my spirit,
To heal,
To radiate the light of my soul,
The work of kijâ expands outward across the land,
Emanating throughout the towns,
Throughout all of us,
Kijâ infinitely always holding us.