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but a part of Her.
It is through your eyes that Her beauty
gains form and story,
and too that heart-wrenching lament
that initiates boys into authentic manhood.
It is through your ears that Her song
finds the drum and rhythm,
and too that ancient requiem of longing
that Sees the wild yearning to be
seen in the woman who has not fully
forgotten what a humming child
knows of liberation.
Through your calloused hands,
She touches her own body.
Through your bare and wanting feet,
She can travel to places of Herself
in the way that
none of us can go alone.
So, this I must say:
Take no part in your tale of unworthiness.
Make short banter with all language of doubt.
Let there be no more epic sagas in which the hero
falls silently upon the very sword that She
has forged for him of Her very own
As a part of Her myself and upon Her behalf
in the manner that serves all kin
baring close resemblance to the
Breath of Life,
I ask of you this with a polite
yet rabid fierceness, because anything else
would be too small an effort in lieu of
what is most important,
Upon every tender inspiration,
Upon every harrowed vulnerability,
let your tongue drip
with languid bliss and humor
the wisest of trembling pearls –
all the while knowing,
with the Mother’s tongue.
(c) 2012-2018/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this World"
Published by Talking Waters Press
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