EYES OF A NEW MORNING   <return to contents

Woman’s Sutra
She sits above the ocean, on rock,
first time eyewitness
to this mating of Pacific wave & earth,
eyes closed,
mouth open,
heart out,
head in
voyage,
all parts of her pour between the rocks –

frothy whitewater hauls in clumps of kelp,
pushes it through every nook, cranny, crevice,
filling pools, absorbing sand, splashing face,
high tide, low clouds, hills edged in gray,
pulled in, tucked, myopic.

Listen to her, skimming pelican, ocean,
schools of fish writing power into her bosom,
scars on the rock, pure power
rises from each exploded breaker
as she sits sideways, ear to the sound,
her eyes two islands, her soul summoning
Shiva to join her on the playground.

You can break her, dam the rivers that feed her,
dump waste down her throat,
leach her minerals, scrape her fertile womb
with hooks & harpoons, derricks, drag-nets,
but you can’t stop her from moving forward,
creating storm, nesting fish, flooding shores,
birthing new islands

STILL

she seizes up –
she forms wave –
she charges ashore –
she shakes sand –
she changes rock –
she grows kelp, whale –
she feeds pelican, seal –
she plays with otter, shark –
she welcomes rising sun –
she comforts setting sun –
she cradles reflections of stars –

STILL

She stares out to the horizon, always forming,
cells awakening, body breathing, mind flowing,
eyes glowing,
chains dissolving, flame growing,
command rising, dreams flying

above her, sketched against gray,
seagull arcs upward
catching current

Where she meets Big Sur, the great Big Sur,
the mighty Big Sur, land of Big Sur,
union of the extremes,
hills & cliffs spiking foggy sky,
flowers & firs tumbling down meadows,
redwoods standing earth’s tallest guard
not two miles from where she rolls,
changing everything all over again,
minutely: Our time.