In silence we travel;
through the lava beds we wind
wrapped in thought and acid
Notes play upon my solar plexus,
ripple upward from groin to throat, subtle
waves of energy
keyed to my body like a lover’s hand.
It is my birthday, but we don’t speak of it
My attention drifts through fog,
seeks threads of blue between stone.
Momentarily I consider breaking
the solitude though it’s not heavy.
It’s the passenger’s obligation to fill the air, isn’t it,
Amidst the lava a shadow stirs,
shifts into Other shape –
Owl – Woman – Grandmother.
I should not gaze into those dark eyes, or
so I’m told. I cannot fear her still serenity,
or the gathering of life shadows beneath her wings.
Pinioned by love, forgiven for my life’s transgressions
of deeds undone, I
can only hope she will last a lifetime
even as she returns to stone