Ode to the Body of the Earth

God, this is a beautiful day, and I live to praise it.
I am so grateful that all this exists, that we are both here
and I meditate
on the thrumming gratitude that plays my heart
as I bury my cheek in the soil and the dusty grass
(strewn with pebbles, clover,
and anthills),
nuzzling and pressing in to
the warm shoulder of the earth
like a sweet and desirous woman: affectionate
and lusty.

As I lie over the bosom of the earth, I feel
completely grounded, calmed, and more--pulled
by an invisible force as strong as love,
but stronger, in its fixed way, like gravity,
from all the lively, spinning centers of myself.
My hot and liquid core, pulsating
and flowing with acrid, vital fluids
is drawn, irresistible,
to hers,
and our bodies lay upon each other like mirrors
and reflect an endless symmetry
until we blend into one another and are indistinguishable.

The earth is my god and my body,
and only when I think of her,
when I press myself, childlike, into her tumescent sphere,
wrap myself in her long grasses
(the first fibers to be woven into clothes) and her caressing winds,
and fill my ears with her self-bound stars,
the birds,
do I feel at peace,
and my heart opens
to encompass the entire sky.


6.30.10