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sense of wonder
awoke, remembering a dream
I Don't Cut My Grass
by Enid Dame
Lilith, comes out of ancient Sumerian mythology as a female mythological figure representing at first a Sumerian
goddess of the wind, -then, the essence of the erotic female in the secret rites of sexual mysticism, the beautiful first
female Eve, a winged demon seductress. A complex and long lasting icon from Mesopotamia to the Hebrew
mysticism of the Qabbala
LILITH, I DON'T CUT MY GRASS
....ALTHOUGH lILITH HAS EXISTED SINCE THE SIXTH, OR EVEN
THE FIFTH DAY OF CREATION, SHE IS NOT IMMORTAL.
The Hebrew Goddess
Lilith, I don't cut my grass
as you never cut your hair.
I picture you in my backyard
where it's always cool and ferny,
where jewelweeds grow taller than trees,
where wild berries tangle
like knots in cats' fur.
I see you sorting out the birds from the cats:
two of your favorite animals.
Contradictions never scared you.
Lilith, you smell like the earth
and marigolds and mulchy leaves.
Your arms are mud-bespattered.
You don't look like my mother.
I couldn't ask my mother
for a blessing.
She was too much afraid
of her own craziness.
She only spoke to cats.
Every few months
She went to an expert
to burn all the wilderness
out of her hair.
Once she tried to take me with her.
I scratched and fought,
yowled, ran up an elm tree.
It took years to climb down.
Lilith, I'm almost 50.I'm running of time, money, eyesight.
I still bleed but for how long?
Not like this yard where everything is liquid:
Where roses sag and break their waters,
tomatoes offer up their juices,
slugs die dreamily in beerbowls, you dip your toes in green mud.
Lilith, neighbors are complaining.They're collecting money
to buy me a power mover.
How can I tell them
I'm terrified of power?
There's too much let loose in the world.
It's one gift I don't need.
Lilith, it's growing later.
I knew you won't hang on forever.
they say Messiah's coming any day now.
I hear his footsteps ringing in the hallway.
The clean clang of authority.
I see his shadow looming big as a condominium
sucking up the sun.
No stopping that man!
He's carrying a squirtgun filled with chemicals.
No room for weeds in his world.
Lilith, bless this garden
while both of us
still use it.
|Poetry and Haiku from Katie|
Slowly coming up
Walking in the dew softly
Keeping the silence
Slowly going down
| I can try to be
inspirational to your dying
Body, that trembles with lack of hope
(You starved yourself of hope)
I can tell you how beautiful you look,
And youíre too lost to know that Iím not lying
Only your shadow is left to embrace me,
Although they said it was too painful for you
They donít realize youíre not even there,
And I can hear you laughing from far away,
(If that is even your ability to have fun)
I can try to coax you back, with lies,
The truth, of how your body
Needs, because it isnít, perfection yet,
I can promise you that youíll make it
An image of your soul,
If youíre willing to believe me, but
Are you beyond willing?
And if I could scorn your petty advances at perfection
(Assuming I still have the heart to break yours)
Would you have enough hope to drain the rest away,
And still make it out alive, before you die
(I could slip you between the cracks)
| I can try to
make sure you donít live,
If you promise to come back
For one instant, and arch up into my body,
Could you not be fragile,
So I can show you the strength of my love?
(I was never the one who asked you too much)
And I am not selfish, (yes I am) for wanting you to go back
To the time that forced you into your present condition,
Because for a few days you were beautiful,
And right before you slipped away
I loved you,
My anorexic angel
But the lack of hope wonít grant you wings)
tap on your door pane,
and serenity of the woodland,
Especially in the fall
Is an experience in life that the mind and soul
Are compelled to recall.
The echo of a wolf howling far,
Far away somewhere along a river
Touches the sense of your soul
And causes you to be still and consider
The silence of peace and nature in harmonic embrace,
The majestic stillness of trees,
Wistful movement of air, a dignified place,
Makes the inner self give up pressure and stress
That life can impose
Makes the heart and soul unite in peaceful compose.
The bridge between life and death
Is a mystery solved by no mortal man,
Yet our senses know the presence of other souls
We do not understand
The link between this life's time and space
And some other is not for us to know,
But a heart, mind, and soul at peace
Will prepare us for where we must go.
The uncertainity, the solitude,
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