To: K-list
Recieved: 1999/01/27 15:49
Subject: [K-list] poem...
From: MadhyaNandi MadhyaNandi
On 1999/01/27 15:49, MadhyaNandi MadhyaNandi posted thus to the K-list:
Feeling like the world's a tough mistress today. Mind if I share a
poem?
All The Days Remaining
These latter-day mornings
I awaken with the taste of
mortality in my mouth and
in the breath that escapes
sleeping's last dream,
feeling that I have swallowed
and chewed and, indeed,
wept and wailed and
gnashed my teeth
on every unfulfilled desire,
all the children I have borne
and left on the stovetop,
or in the oven,
raw, half-baked,
perhaps a little burned
much too young,
my babies all, some as mortal
as myself, alive--somewhere,
others, still-born on countless pages,
the moments of their birth
glorious,
the days of their lives,
sinfully brief,
as though abandoned passions
return to some vacuous forest,
without their teeth,
unable to eat,
forever destined to hope
for the glory of awakening,
the flavor of light...
I am here in middle age,
after years of yogic prostration,
God knows how many hours
sitting still,
contemplating Her Nature,
watching nothing with open eyes,
hearing Her Voice alone,
tasting Her lips on mine,
(with delight I realize that
I have always been lesbian),
chewing the aftertaste of regret
and surrendering to the fact that
whatever joy inhabits my life,
is here Now,
inviting me to accept Her
without condition or exception,
to experience the passion of
Her love in the bodies and minds
of the people I meet,
to live this last Moment
demanding no reward nor
circumstance to feel Her lips
on my eyes, ears and on my
mouth,
She beckons me now,
Her hands outstretched,
watching my fingers on
the keyboard,
flirting,
dancing across the electric page;
Her kisses, the touch of a warm
tongue caressing my fingers,
How full are Her hips!
How delicious Her fiery flesh,
And now She begins to sing and
I strain my ears to hear Her Voice,
I watch Her lips,
so subtle and soft is Her Song--
O teach me to hear,
all you people of my city!
Show me your songs and
your dances!
Be my sons, my daughters,
my husband and wife--
I deliver myself into
your heart, my Lover,
feed me this city and
joy will fill my mouth
for all the days remaining.
Madhya Nandi
copyright 1998
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