Driftwood- A Poem for Annika

In a time where the modern culture machine

Is working overtime

To plunder the earth

To disembody families

And sell our innate authority back to us

At the going market rate

As corporate personhoods stalk

Our wild forests

Mechanically laying the trees,

Corpselike, in their metal cages

To be shipped off shore

And mulched

To wipe up the messes

Of uninitiated societies.

You choose to lay yourself

Bare limbed

White skinned

A top the silken water

And you surrender

A half smile relaxed across your lips

Testing your own trust

In your own body

Meanwhile,

Another heartbeat

Flutters

Deep in your own water

Unfurling, embodying

Liquid life in an oceanic soup

Remembering itself whole.

Amongst the cascading ruins

Of a culture gone astray.

You lean back,

A slant of light

Spun firm into Woman

Carried in the arms of 

A wiser water

No fight, no should

Casting your own course

Through handspun waters

Carrying the next generation

No hurry, no pause.

At home, like the limber bodies

Of salten-wood

You drift, gently caressed in your passage

A vessel named incarnation

Under your stars, 

Counting the moons

Awaiting in active surrender

For the turning tide

The breaking of your waters

Giving way to

The gushing arrival 

Of new life

Into the light of this unknown world,

Your driftwood form

Knows all things

Endlessly held

In joyous buoyancy

Loving the gravity of now

Into a whole new way.