By Ceridwen Dulac
The Goddess speaks
in rushing rivers, smoothing boulders with infinite patience
in tumbling streams, giggling as pebbles tickle underneath
in crashing waves, sucking greedily on coastlines
in pools deep and unfathomable, silent in their stillness
in ocean and brook, lake and waterfall,
in life sustaining water.
The Goddess speaks
in towering trees, majestic pine and redwood, fragile sapling
in red-brown soil, newly ploughed, fertile and waiting
in monstrous mountain, rugged peaks amongst the clouds
in checkerboard land, patched like an oversized quilt
in rock and cave, crag and dale, desert dry and arid
in life sustaining earth.
The Goddess speaks
in whistling winds hurtling through branches without care
in gentle breezes stirring the air with faintest breath
in gusts and bursts, merrily catching leaves, making them dance
in stillness, barely there, caressing the cheek with softest touch
in hurricane and whirlwind, Chinook and storm
in life sustaining air.
The Goddess speaks
in flaming firelight, spiraling upwards, sparking with glee
in ravaging inferno, terrorizing the night, taking all in its path
in hearth fire, warming the body with gentle heat
in sunshine's burning rays, gilding limbs with gold
in cook fire and sunlight, bonfire and sparks
in life sustaining fire.
The Goddess speaks, but who is listening?
I wonder, who really hears?
