Sunday, March 22, 2015

King's Creek (Watarrka Kuningka)...

I stand here
in reverence & silence,
here in Nature Mother's cathedral.
The birds, flies & crickets
unite as one choir,
singing their songs
& hymns of praise.
Above me, 
canyon walls from
time immemorial
(20,000,000+ human years)
look down on me
like ancient, sacred
stainglassed windows.

Looking up at them,
I feel reflected
back at me
my very soul.
Is this the
"wild life"
Brother Billy 
referred to?
I close my eyes,
& in the silence I hear
the tiny flap flap flapping
of butterfly wings;
of birds' hearts
beat beat beating
beneath feathered chests;
& tree frogs' eyes
blink blink blinking.

The red soil that stains
my boots and clothes
has seeped into my
sweat and skin.
Wind hisses through trees,
stirs something
deep inside my core,
my very essence & being.
I can now feel
the red soil
inside my veins,
my bloostream.
I feel it silently
traveling up up upwards
to my open, waiting
(wanting?) heart.

I have become one
with this sacred site now.
My heart, my insides,
my very cells & dna,
they all fill
with nature
& with rapture.
I am alive.
I am alone. Yet not.
The sky splits open
in the most intense blue
I have ever seen
- even in dream.
I am here.
Here in the
deafening silence.
And for the
second time
in six weeks:
I see god.

(c) Brent Harpur 2015.

“The desert, when the sun comes up... I couldn't tell where heaven stopped and the Earth began."
(Tom Hanks) 

“I asked him if it were a mirage, and he said yes. I said it was a dream, and he agreed, But said it was the desert's dream not his. And he told me that in a year or so, when he had aged enough for any man, then he would walk into the wind, until he saw the tents. This time, he said, he would go on with them."
(Neil Gaiman)

1 comment:

  1. Your poetry is still so wonderfully,youthfully magical.