Monday, February 27, 2012

Tsunami and the Genealogy of Morality


Grass in the place now devoid of God.

Leaves of rustling grass voices of lesser deaths

millions strong leaves of grass.

The Old Order too, shaman, priest

summon sun, rain, son, reign

lesser deaths, sacrifice, wafer, grain.

Why insist on hearing noise as Voice?

wind chimes tinkle and the waves lap, lap, lap, lap

Lion's tongue waiting for the gazelle to thirst too.

More than voices the gods in our heads, visions too

infant mind, fertility goddess turned clay object toy

bountiful crop prayer to mother earth.

Men offered forbidden fruit leaving garden

Bellow of legions charging the front.

Voices in the head bicameral myths.

Ocean on land.

Discourse lost to the wind, the waves, to predator lurking.

Old wisdom lost with God.

Had we heard the leaves rustle, the lapping, would we turn

to plant the spear, to run when the ocean recedes?

By Phil Specht on Feb 27, 2012

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