by Sweigh Emily Spilkin

nighttime at the hitching post of the sun
the absence more present than the presence

and the presence of something
previously unknown but familiar hovering

with her eyes closed everything glowed green and
it wasn’t the everything part that scared her

how can I serve she asked the golden orbshe was
used to descendingdarknesspsychopomps

skullscrossroadsbut not thisthey were going up
it was all together too foreignChrista resurrection

but how and what did that mean
couldn’t she get something simple like

be an orchestra conductor or rid the world of pesticides
but this light in the darkness thing

there were so many of them down heredown being up
though she couldn’t make out their faces

and whenever she felt them looking at her
the question shook off crumbled

cracked like the shape of her old face
she’d been spiraling towards just this kind of

namelessness for centuriesfollowed by the impulse
to flinch fuck feed run

no not this kind of namelessness
this namelessness precisely

to be a bridge a boat a ship
there was just one vow and this wasn’t it

Christto risewasn’t that a bit lofty
do you want to see how you belong to this world

the orb askedshe nodded and was taken
to the cliff’s edge

down below well hidden so that
the Spanish and those without eyes to see

and her own balking ego
wouldn’t spoil it

wouldn’t give it away too soon
was a green crystal city

glowing from withinstone but transparent
dark but clearmultiple in its forms

and undulatingeach tower building on itself
each formation growing

emerald and dimly lit
but almost impossible to look at for its radiance

and the facesthe non-face faces
gathered around her

I live hereshe asked the orb
nothe orb replied

and she wasfor a momentrelieved
you are herethe orb continued

this is your true nature
this is how you are to serve

and then the orb flew off in a more human shape
that resembled a wink in its form

a little like tinkerbell
and a little like her dead grandmother

but howshe askedovercome now with gratitude and terror
thatcalled the orb as she disappeared from view

that is for you to figure out

© Sweigh Emily Spilkin 2006

Sweigh Emily Spilkin, MFA is a poet, healer, and guide. Sweigh lives in a sleepy corner of Boulder, CO where she wanders through the foothills, teaches poetry, practices chi kung energy healing, and on a good day, writes. Sweigh loves and is terrified of the Mystery. Over the last three years, a journey with chronic illness has taught her lessons she never wanted to learn, and she is grateful. Sweigh received her MFA in poetry from Naropa University in 2000.