Poetry|New Beginnings

Death of an Author

Bat medicine on the waters of rebirth

One week’s passing of angelic wings — aloof of the physical presence of mourners view — inner workings for deeper peace.

On the third day — the death of a faded memory — disorientated with a deeper understanding of old ways — reintegration of new amidst the chaotic kyphosis of a primordial new beginning.

Mother having traveled — returning home — Father finding his footing without a crutch of saintly proportion. Closure of this mid-day chapter book — leaving the author empty-handed — no pen in hand.

Let me sit here a little longer — thoughts of the creator’s silent admiration — for all things creepy crawly to whistling high flyers. Witnessing the birth of another wren — chirping for mother and father — fill our bellies with all you know.

Smokey Joe was whispering — the past to ether’s burial grounds — breathing in new life — new chapters awaiting Great Mysteries universal consciousness attuning kiss.

Visitors song — high-pitch screeching subsonic tune — an ancient story of the Creator burning feather’s from a bird wishing to watch over the night. Right on time — my little friend — caught in the mystery of your presence circling over me.

Smokey Joe and author rejoicing in open — fields of unknown made known — death to rebirth — ending to new beginnings — returning home. Message heard — witnessed in the flutter of nightly watchers — seen with deeper sight — into the unknown.

Listening to the countless people in our circles, how their lives are upside-down. Passing of a loved one, loss of a career, lack of means meeting ends, world chaos collectively pressure cooking until a great pop.

On the verge of an unknown, riddled by fear, encouraging a great purge of letting go, bat pays a visit. Bat reminding us to let go of that which holds us back, stealthy flying into the inner shadows of the night.

Trust in the messengers song, once cursed — now gifted with a higher call to service — self-gratification knowing that we are the watchers over the night.

~Ani Po

Thank you Marilyn Glover, and the whole Third-Eye-Gypsy family, for holding this sacred space.

Much gratitude for those who take time to read, ponder, and allow the inner workings of self to come forward. Grateful for the feedback, love shared, and, more importantly, the Dance with Inspiration. Deep Peace.

Joseph Lieungh