dialogues stir emergences
dialogues across space and time
poets whose words stir you
root-like
spreading into dark crevices deep underground
where light seeps amongst shadows
*
he wrote to your stone dances in the folds of woods
women who run with stones
make stones sound
sound stones bend
say your earth for you1
the shape of things when mist descends
softens edges
jagged spines dissolve
leaving whisperings
echoing in the curves of caves
skies burst in deep ebonies and wild azure blues
stones of earthen hues scatter on river shores
those silent sentinels that mark the passing of lives
here where light gathers at dusk
where silence becomes poetry
you sprout images birthed from shadows that prowl through dawn dreams
shrouded in dew
mists cling on the edges of lives
when silence becomes poetry
we are rebirthed
the earth sings to the rhythm of waves
of mud
of silt
the acrid sweet smells of life amongst knot gardens
tea-like rivers tamin-bled from oak leaves pine needles cedar bark
swirl drunk-like caressing stone-strewn muddy bottoms
1-lines from George Quasha poem Women Who Run with Stones (For Raquel on number 70—March 28, 1999)
—Celia Reissig
