Games Behind My School

Games Behind My School
© Surazeus
2017 01 01

I see children play games behind my school
where ravens in oak trees watch with green eyes
then laugh when the eyeless boy with glass rule
measures waves of the air from ringing skies.

I kneel and remember, before dawn light,
how grandmother of my grandmother hid
apple seeds of truth in the heart of night
whose roots weave my brain in vast conscious grid.

I look up into ancient field-wrinkled face
of Moon Mother who whispers secret code
explaining how we reincarnate space
so I walk somewhere on the signless road.

I listen when the trees who wave their arms
describe the way pools mirror our true soul
so I mold clay disks into singing charms
that twirl in wind above bottomless hole.

I carve runes that designate her true name
and sit on the hill inside ring of stones,
hoping she will come and resume our game
while I cast your fortune with broken bones.

Each gust of air, drop of water, and speck
of dirt contains the flaming flash of light
that urges lone wanderers to join trek
of adventurers who defend the right.

I feel inside this glob of hungry flesh
spark of divine spirit urge my desire
to organize healers in the safe creche
where Raven Girl chants around vision fire.

I watch her flap feather cape as wind wings
till apple tree blooms from her bleeding heart
and her mouth becomes red rose when she sings,
so in the morning I invent the cart.

I insert the whirling flames of the sun
inside the slow timing spin of each wheel,
then all the wild children laugh as they run
when I lead them to my hill for a meal.

I stack ten thousand stones to build high wall
that surrounds the hill where moon mother cooks
mushroom wine that sparkles our eyes with dreams
that wait hidden in fairy tales of books.

Waving oak wand, I lead them in stone hall
where I teach them to carve letters of words,
then show them secrets of the woods and streams
and how to dream truth in the flights of birds.

I see children play games behind my school
and remember how we humans first woke
from ancient play of the King and the Fool,
so I fly away, wrapped in black silk cloak.