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 orb
she was
used to descending
darkness
psychopomps
skulls
crossroads
but not this
they were going up
it was all together too foreign
Christ
a 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 here
down 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 centuries
followed 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
Christ
to rise
wasn’t that a bit lofty
do you want to see how you belong to this world
the orb asked
she 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 within
stone but transparent
dark but clear
multiple in its forms
and undulating
each tower building on itself
each formation growing
emerald and dimly lit
but almost impossible to look at for its radiance
and the faces
the non-face faces
gathered around her
I live here
she asked the orb
no
the orb replied
and she was
for a moment
relieved
you are here
the 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 how
she asked
overcome now with gratitude and terror
that
called 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.




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