Friday, February 18, 2011
poem by Linda Hogan
In addition to the mystery of how matter becomes spirit in an unending process, there is also the mystery of how matter becomes flesh--literally through what we eat and absorb into our bodies. Of course, there are many levels of transformation--and each is, I believe, a mystery in itself.
Linda Hogan expresses this notion beautifully in the following poem, presenting the mystery that surrounds us daily (the food that is changed into our own bodies) in a process which we for the most part take for granted.
Inside
How something is made flesh
no one can say. The buffalo soup
becomes a woman
who sings every day to her horses
or summons another to her private body
saying, come, touch, this is how
it begins, the path of a newly born
who, salvaged from other lives and worlds,
will grow to become a woman, a man,
with a heart that never rests,
and the gathered berries,
th wild grapes
enter the body,
human wine
which can love,
where nothing created is wasted;
the swallowed grain takes you through the dreams
of another night,
the deer meat becomes hands
strong enough to work.
But I love most
the white-haired creature
eating green leaves;
the sun shines there
swallowed, showing in her face
taking in all the light,
and in the end
when the shadow from the ground
enters the body and remains,
in the end, you might say,
This is myself
still unknown, still a mystery.
~ Linda Hogan ~
(Rounding the Human Corners)
(image found on Panhala site)
