Ateruw / I Will Never Let Them Go

Ateruw

They glide past my eyes on either side,
these jewels the Gods dropped one by one
into the floodwaters;
the finest gold, turquoise, and malachite,
catching the sun’s hands by the tips of their fingers;
these jewels the Gods dropped one by one
into the river they love.

I have loved, too, as I dropped my body for you,
wrapped in dazzling white linen
on the breath of a festival day;
taking to the waters that drew near to kiss me,
as I imagined your skin drawing near in perfection.
Ateruw is the name of this flood that knows my name,
gliding past my eyes on either side.

I could tell the eyes of the sky
that the Earth-God has summoned me;
His arms flashing with turquoise,
His limbs of burnished gold making a mirror of my skin;
but my hands caught the river
in their eager net of flesh,
with kisses and devotion sliding beneath his surface.

They glide past my eyes on either side,
these prayers my lips have woven one by one;
into the flood they have slipped with desire,
to flash beneath the surface for my hungry net.
Rosy gold and most holy stone have dropped from my sight,
their words of value still singing to my ears;
and I will never let them go, once their song has faded.

I have sung songs the sacred river knows,
wrapped in heady myrrh on a festival day.
Their words catch the Gods in a net of perfume,
carried on sandalwood with jasmine flowers in bloom.
They are the jewels that draw near in perfection,
as other voices slip through the holes my net leaves;
and I will never let them go, once their time has ended.

I could tell the ears of the river
that the Sky-Goddess has summoned me;
Her thighs embraced by a canopy of stars,
Her golden breasts full for my hungry lips;
but my hands caught the clouds
in their quick net of lust,
with my spirit and intentions lost beneath his surface.

They glide past my eyes on either side,
these flowers the Gods dropped one by one
into their earthly garden;
carnelian, jasper, and real lapis lazuli,
catching the breath of the sky by the tip of Her tongue;
these jewels the Gods have let slip by me,
one by one into the river they love.

I have loved, too, as I dropped my shadow for you,
wrapped in a heart of fiery red stone
on the glare of a midsummer day;
taking to the holy sycamore that drew near to kiss me,
as I imagined your soul drawing near in perfection.
Ateruw is the name of this vessel that holds me,
gliding past my eyes on either side.

I could tell the lips of the earth
that the Gods have summoned me;
their souls of turquoise like flames rising high,
their wings of lapis lazuli holding the sun in His mirror;
but my hands caught the western mountains
in their net of flesh and bone,
with my heart and shadow lost beneath his surface.

I have held the jewels the Gods once held,
wrapped in their mysteries
on the skin of a festival day;
taking to the waters that slip by the net of my eyes,
tempting my hands with perfection as they draw near.
They are the words my soul’s ears will always hear,
and I will never let them go, once my heart has mended.

All text copyright © 2016 Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa

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Sacred Verses (38): Meeting At the Gates

Meeting At the Gates.JPG

There is a meeting at the gates
where I walk in the company of the rain;
the sky is written upon his body
as he falls to the thirsty earth below;
my earth that drinks him deeply,
that finds consolation in his lofty messages;
my earth that needs the kisses
of that place behind the veil;
my earth that gathers all the sky sends,
to hold it for my meeting at the gates.

There is a meeting at the gates
where I dance in the company of the desert;
the wind is written upon his body
as he shifts across his barren kingdom;
my kingdom of the spirit lifted
above the flesh and bones he knows;
my kingdom twined with cliff and stone,
opening for the tips of these etheric wings;
my kingdom of unceasing air
that holds the spaces for my meeting at the gates.

There is a meeting at the gates
where I dress in the company of the sun;
pure gold is written upon his body
as he travels through the shadowy sky below;
my sky that spreads her body for him,
that receives the tokens of life he gives;
my sky that wears the messages
of those stars above the veil;
my sky that reads the wandering bodies,
and holds their maps for my meeting at the gates.

There is a meeting at the gates
where I fly in the company of swallows;
messages of the sky are written upon their bodies
as they travel to and fro between the worlds;
my worlds of earth and air
between which the Gods are known;
my worlds within this skin and bones,
growing from my soil like a tree;
my worlds that keep my secret deeds
until they fly forth for my meeting at the gates.

There is a meeting at the gates
where I awake in the company of jabirus;
the Gods are written upon their wings
as they break the silence of the twilight hour;
my hour of shattering the dusky veil
rising between my corpse and soul;
my hour of hearing the message of stars,
calling through the doors of that secret world;
my hour of kindling the fire within my bones
as it lights my way for my meeting at the gates.

There is a meeting at the gates
where I make love in the company of a heron;
my heart is written upon his gleaming breast
as he rises above me to open my eyes;
my eyes that know the horizons of the sky
between which the sun dances his seasons;
my eyes that see the spirits who know me,
riding high on their western peak;
my eyes that foretell the beating of my heart
that holds the rhythm for my meeting at the gates.

There is a meeting at the gates
where I swim in the company of a sacred lotus;
my future is written upon his sky-blue petals
as he opens in the waters to herald the dawn;
my dawn wearing the embrace of myrrh
as he spreads through the arms of his sky;
my dawn wearing a mantle of fine gold,
predicting midday fire above his watery veil;
my dawn that finds its hidden light shining
beyond the shadows for my meeting at the gates.

There is a meeting at the gates
where I pass through in the company of the Gods;
my soul is written upon their faces of the sky
as they rise through the worlds on their ladder;
my ladder that breaks the darkness of the vault
as it receives the wings of those sacred spirits;
my ladder that stretches between the worlds,
lifting my name high above my worldly bones;
my ladder that speaks the names of those Gods
that hold my life for my meeting at the gates.

All text copyright © 2016 Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa

Sacred Verses (35): What Do You Hear / I Hear the Gods

What Do You Hear

What do you hear in that hour they call twilight;
stars that have overcome the horizon
with cloaks of blue and gold,
who in their luminescent hands hold
the departed spirits of the earth below;
they reach your ears with messages from the sky,
opening the doors we enter when we die;
they have for ears and eyes the patterns
of souls rising for the dance,
beheld by the earth in silent awe.

I hear the Gods who weave their twilight home;
the gold that beckons eyes to horizon’s fire,
her breast pointed high to clasp spirit’s wings;
they who reach the crimson-painted clouds,
before the darkness finds them
to blanket their ascent.
These mysteries show their colors to my eyes,
as I watch for the spirits who come to claim the skies.

What do you hear when the sycamore sways;
the past who in his fingers holds
the lovers who have scratched their names
on your breast of gold;
with a silver mirror to dress your eyes,
and a shadow of copper where your spirit flies.
He is a past of gilded fabric,
whose shimmer rekindles yesterday in his garden;
of trees that count your forgotten years,
when dusky soil has taken your flesh and tears.

I hear the Gods who have woven the earth;
by their hands of gold and brow of stars,
who came before the green beneath us grew;
with their language of sparrow and morning star,
upon whose breezes the waters of beginning stirred.
I find in the mountains the stone and metals of their tongue,
speaking clear to the coming dawn;
she parts her veil for the arousal of those peaks,
whose lips seek a turquoise embrace
from that mouth into which he speaks.

What do you hear when the cornflower opens;
the thread of life calling from the mantle of the dead,
where flesh and bone are buried
with a wreath upon his head;
your lover called youth and time,
endless it seems by dawn;
standing green with spring’s fair blooms,
until by dusk they are gone.
I knew him to be a swallow on the air
who carried me to pasture, to orchard and home;
this wreath of sky-blue flowers on my brow,
whose beauty like daybreak was destined to roam.

I hear the Gods as they dance in their orchards;
trees of myrrh who commune with the acacia,
of ancient leaves and boughs;
they break open the sky with their ageless stories,
with fruit that speaks a stellar tongue.
This language is the memory of many
before the one came;
she tells the fruit of legions
before his jealous claim.
I read with open eyes and hear with open ears
the music of the sky that reckons
the memory of myriad years.

What do you hear when your soul flies;
your wings calling the winds their home,
above the place where mountains open their peaks;
where he catches the gaze of the west as it sees,
as the voice of the vault clearly speaks.
Is this where you find your flesh and your bones,
renewed in a western shrine;
where before you have gone the dreams of living men,
taken as lovers by time.
This place where go the feet of dreams
with lovers on his brow,
we call the thighs of sacred death
before whom our dreams bow.

I hear the Gods in their shrine called memory,
from whose breast the ancient tongues are nourished;
with their skies and trees and myriad fields
traversed by the wings of their stellar spirits.
This is where we go when the hour called twilight ripens,
when she reaches out her hand
to take back the dust of her ages.

This is where I go when my flesh tires of bone;
and these are the Gods who meet me with gold
when the dusky veil opens to welcome me home.
I hear with open ears and see with open eyes
the chanting of the fields where death’s mantle unravels;
I hear with open ears and see with open eyes
the courses of many that govern life’s travels,
by whose hands the earth meets the skies.

All text copyright © 2016 Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa

Sacred Verses (37): May the Gods Open A Door

May the Gods Open A Door

I awake to a life hidden
behind the world’s dusky veil;
she finds me as my mother,
rising up between her loins of celestial metal.
What finds me is our cavern of beginnings,
where swim the wings of souls;
what finds me is our lake in the nether sky,
where fly the shadows charged by heaven’s breast.
May the Gods open a door
for the passage of my solar wings;
may the Gods open a door
for the breath my mother sings.

My eyes tread the courses of the stars
untiring in their house of north;
in this direction I am taken by them
to the region where horizons gaze;
to behold our bodies glittering
with skins of gold and precious stone.
I am open in the direction of the ever-rising sun,
with brows of lapis lazuli curving on heaven’s crown.
May the Gods open the sky
for my flesh of stellar design;
may the Gods open the sky
for these shining wings of mine.

It is from the soil I swell with malachite presence,
my naked feet known to the sacral ground below;
he knows my seed of green
from which his mighty sycamore has grown;
he knows my heady scent of myrrh
from which his power is sewn.
I now behold green jasper, inhale breath of myrrh;
knowing the seeds of tomorrow, and all the seeds that were.
May the Gods open the earth
for my feet of stone and seed;
may the Gods open the earth
for these feet to take their lead.

I have come on voice of sky,
upon celestial breath;
he recounts the moment of my birth;
his open arms take my death;
he has given his hallows beneath ancient trees,
whose branches foretell my years with seeing leaves.
I come to receive a mantle of stone,
alighting as a swallow in the boughs I call home.
May the Gods open a field
for my wings as they grow;
May the Gods open a field
for my enchantments that flow.

Now I come to a river of luminous spirit
spreading the loins of the eastern horizon.
She is a flower in the river of the sky,
opening her wet petals for my loins as they fly;
she is a mother of gleaming turquoise breast,
holding the sun tightly in her woven gold nest.
I am now wet as the day I was born,
reared on milk of sky, fresh on the breast of morning.
May the Gods open a lotus
for my face of youthful power;
may the Gods open a lotus
for my mirror of the dawning hour.

I came from the cleft of my mother,
from the seed my father spilled;
hers is the sacred cavern
from manhood of earth being filled.
His are the eyes that see me spring
at sacred daybreak on his bank;
hers are the lips the sun hears sing
when I ascend her gilded flank.
May the Gods open a body
for my wings to take their flight;
may the Gods open a body
for my dawn and star by night.

My skin recalls his bones when morning comes,
and when night falls he hears the summons of his blood;
these the fragile gifts of earth,
the sacral river and her mud.
I swim with the sky as the east is born,
and by the west I travel as his daylight is shorn.
The feet that move me are of earth, of tree and holy peak;
the arms that keep me are of sky, the mansion earth’s eyes seek.
May the Gods open a soul
for these bones to open their way;
may the Gods open a soul
for my coming forth by day.

All text copyright © 2016 Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa