where the reeds blow

I go where the reeds blow

the ground soaked and thick

I muster through the cement like earth and fill the strain in each step

I go where the reeds blow

to hear the chants of my ancestors grow

dancing on the brown and long sticks

bending with the wind and never moving from where they stand

the fowl nesting in her hair

the life generating within her fold

I go where the reeds blow

where life and death sink and sow

where the tandem worlds meet in the moonlight

flesh and spirits waning in that glow

Reviews

[Tony Jordan]

I find reed beds fascinating places.
They look so regal on the edge of many not-so-regal ponds filled with human detritus.
The Eastern philosophies say be like a reed and bend in the wind (to prevent breaking) and from this I got a sense of the narrator being highly aware of such wisdom and beyond.
A beautiful image-filled piece AKhaus.