Because I do not make a sound
the earthmother swallows me
whole into her breast and keeps me
warm and lush under her heartspace
and I am silent
for my mouth does not open
and my throat does not work.
I have been oiled shut
by ages of self-neglect.
And because I do not make a sound
I cannot whisper my name
into her mindjunction
hope that she, the highest reverie,
would remember me,
this low little being,
her earthfood child.
Because I do not make a sound
I am just a piece of the filling void.

03/15/2002

Posted on 03/15/2002
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