All we have is the heartbeat
played on the drum of this day.
We are the hands on the skin,
and this hollow space
that swells with the rising sun,
pregnant with possibility.
Here resonates the call
to work and play and —
thrumming within each beat —
the sun’s farewell,
the night into which we naked return.
(Title from a poem by Antal, an 8th-century poet and the only woman among the Twelve Alvars of South Indian Vishnu worship)
Like this:
Like Loading...
Related
Published by
Mary Camille Thomas
Mary Camille Thomas is a native of Santa Cruz, California who considers herself lucky to be back after living in Davis, Germany, Los Angeles, Holland, and on the road in a motorhome. She is a librarian by profession, and her poetry has appeared in the Porter Gulch Review and Sisters Singing: Blessings, Prayers, Art, Songs and Sacred Stories by Women. She is is currently working on a novel called Schatz and a collection of poems of the spirit.
View all posts by Mary Camille Thomas
Thank you, Mary, once again, for making the ordinary day, sublime.
LikeLike
Beautiful Mary! Thank you.
>
LikeLike
Beautiful, Mary!
LikeLike