Monthly Archives: March 1997

OH TO NERUDA

OH TO NERUDA

Oh Pablo you rise up
from a land, long as a woman’s back
And you have loved your land
as you would love a woman
as you have loved women as you loved
your land

Every rock and shoal of their coastlines
every mood of their tides

You have caressed them
with your mind and your heart
and your hands
And have received the treasures
that must
always rise up
from their endless depths
to meet such a touch

EAGLE ON THE MOON

EAGLE ON THE MOON

When the Eagle lands on the moon
the Indian will come back
into his power

When the mother is in pain
the children who never forgot
will remind

They will have the medicine
to heal her wounds
They will sit with her while
strength returns

And the children who forgot
will remember

and bring flowers

THE PIETA

THE PIETA

Michelangelo
polished the Pieta, polished the Pieta
polished the Pieta

Tired past all tired
polished the Pieta, polished the Pieta
polished the Pieta

Polishing her breast
he fell into a sleep, fell into a sleep in the
arms of the Pieta

When the polishing was done Michelangelo
stood back

The Mother was alive, the Mother had an
Aura and the Mother was alive

And yet the Son, the Son lay dead, the Son
lay dead there in her arms

In the mind of Michelangelo a thought began
to grow

Unworthy, unworthy, unworthy
yet I know

I must take the red black blood, I must take
the red black blood
From his side of cold white marble

I must take the blood within me, I must take
the blood within me, I must take the blood of
death, I must take the blood of death to the
center of myself

Unworthy, unworthy, yet unworthy
in my prayer
I must change the blood that’s there

In the mind of Michelangelo, in the mind of
Michelangelo, in the midst of Michelangelo
the red black blood was changed to light
unworthy, unworthy, unworthy
Michelangelo
the red black blood was changed to light

Then the mind of Michelangelo
saw the light return to marble through the
marble hole in side

Saw the Aura of the Mother
saw the energy of Mary
Saw the energy of Mary through her arms
into her Son

Saw the Christ no more of death, saw the
Christ to be reborn

When Michelangelo lay dying
When Michelangelo lay dying and his
friends were gathered round

They saw him tired past all tired on a cot
within his home

When Michelangelo lay dying
When Michelangelo lay dying, he saw the
statue and the stone

Saw the polishing was done

And fell into a sleep
In the arms of the Mother, in the arms
of the Mother

Of the Mother of the Son.