Creature Speak

There is so much contained in an exhale.  

Whispers and secrets, and wishes on the wind searching for the spokes of a dandelion to ride.  

Wisps of truth born to traverse the sky, to find a place to land and take root in soil or the sea, or in panoramic eyes and hearts.

Songs form in the concert halls of mouths pressed out in the embrace of The Muse.

Holding your breath is like withholding the rains for thirsty life.  Like barricading the sun for seeds and skin.

Like holding back the tide for the sake of the shore while the ocean suffers in stagnation, holding oil spills and waste as pearls in shells,

forgetting the alchemy of circulation, of containment as whales are beached and dolphins slow til silent and still.

Where does my breath go when I close my eyes?  

When the release of pent up air feels like a kiss on my lungs, my spirit-heart, my mind returning to the shape of a gem?

Diamond dust from an angel’s wings wrapped around me, and they open again to let the light in when I inhale another’s dream.

Who will breathe in all the earth does not take?   Where will my tiny seeds go to grow?  

Will they become forests on hillsides or distant mountains, in hopes of being allowed to live as Mother’s lungs?

Will they become the heartbeats of aquatic creatures orchestrating an oceanic ballet?  

Whirlpools and portals opening under water for Poseidon’s children to be cleansed and renewed?

Or will they become the currents of winds lending lift to hawk’s wings for punctuation, or eagle’s wings for direction?

For inspiration and for hope as the span of feathers casts a sacred shadow on the dreamer’s face,

when their head is in the clouds and their eyes are wide enough to receive the sky?

If my lips give you my sapphire sand and my song, will you give me your glittered ruby and the rhythm of your love?

We can bless one another with the holy completion of the composition, a finished piece for the symphony of life to play,

for Spirit and Earth to dance inside and all around us, if you will breathe with me, Beloved.

Copyright © 2021, Sheyorah Naify