AMY'S 42

Ame,
the chorus, worn out, have bowed their heads. Among their still
voices ....
The one clear note rising is your choice of love
Right here..... in the heart of the battle....
Right in the belly of the beast.....
Against all odds and the meally mouthed
mantras of the dedges in the closet........

The tight forbiding pattern of black and white between your bed
and the bathroom door,
you awaken to find that......
you are the one....
you are the one to pull the sword
from the stone....
you are the one to pull your children from your swollen womb
and give them to the hungry world.
You are the one who utters the syllables of love with holy dread
and wild abandon.

You are the one rolling in the caracol
of a great wave
As it breaks relentlesly
on these conscious shores...
You are the one who digests memory on the tongue(like a
translucent host),
Before it ever reaches the belly.

You are the one
I call Duga...Peluka..... Amedog
You who bestow peace and grant boons on all sides
Have come into our world riding a dragon, blowing your conch shell
And wielding weapons and missiles
in your hundred arms....
You are the one who makes a place for us...

You prepare soup....
I drink your labors and sing
as I go into battle...
"The goddess seated on the tiger,
The Lady of the Crescent Moon....
She is my sister...Beware!