Between the waters abides the earth…
They call me sod
loam, dirt
clay, turf, dust.
In cahoots with rain, rocks and roots
worms and grubs
perforated by ants and moles
aquifers and oil
veined with lead, copper, gold
and hiding diamonds and coal
cables, wires and pipes
I hold your huts and your tents
your houses and barns
anchor your bridges, apartments and high-rises.
In beds below rivers
lakes and oceans
I slumber.
In the open I bask in sun’s warmth
sprout and nourish your food.
Sometimes I seizure
shudder and quake
vomit magma
belch steam and ash
or slump and ooze
tongues of brown porridge
smothering your villages and roads
in mud.
But mostly I am solid and safe
keeping you upright
with my mysterious magnetic powers.
Feed me wisely
for I ingest
without discrimination
and someday soon
you will join me.
I will reclaim you.
You will again
become mine.
© 2014 by Violet Nesdoly (All rights reserved)
Inhabiting a Song
Somewhere back of my throat a tune
hovers. My voice or the ghost of my voice
follows, repeating words and weaving
a record of my life into waves and hesitations.
Suppose our chorus, people and animals,
rises and falls in intervals of breath:
in sleep a dog’s paw twitches; a rabbit’s
dream follows its heartbeat all the way
through some ballad that its life is.
Parts of my song disappear, fade out
except for a beat that spans a known
part to another known part, and on.
Even in silence when shadows pass
my throat is full of the sound of the world.
(William Stafford in Crossing Unmarked Snow:
Further Views on the Writer’s Vocation)
The Vibrant Channeled Creator 