Kundalini Splendor

In Gratitude to Mary Oliver

Because she was willing to do that,
because she was willing to step forth
and be the authentic one
the true poet,

let the universe of living things,
the hawk's dark beak,
the bear's ravenous paw,
enter, become part of
who she was . . .

She spent days beside
the pond
teeming with its watery life
of dragonflies
bits of darting light
stitching the surface
into a crisscross of transparent fire,
the floating blooms
and the oddly lovable
amphibians
with their bellies
and hanging mouths
and their insistent, awkward hellos--
who else could cherish these in such measure...

reckless nights in the woods
with its stealthy prowlers
and haunting melodies
owl screech
and lonely night bird
chorus of snarls and growls
moving near
crackling underbrush
heavy falling limbs
oh, such sweet terror,
such delicious fascination...
who knows what could have happened
there
in the center
of so much mystery

All of this
she sang in our ears,
gave to our awakened eyes,
as she became god’s messenger,
the vessel to make us whole.

Dorothy Walters
February 3, 2007