JC ( / Aoteoroa)

Bone Carving

Within our bones,
there gleam shards
of ancient secrets.
Iwi whakairo,
mirrored visions of
the sky, earth, sea,
the realm between these worlds.
In the mystery of our touch
we sculpt our sacred amulet
with knives of passion.
A storm on the horizon,
our breath catches,
in dark and tangled hair.
Tense flesh beholds infinity
this instant of aching delight.
Gathering, coming,
releasing, then descending
Whispering, we merge
our bodies, our bones
carved together,
He tirohanga ki tuawhakarere
A remnant of ages past.

by Janine Campbell

Other poems of CAMPBELL (8)

Comments (1)

..and after having passed on to the purely spiritual realm, one may regard oneself lucky when one's remaining ones were, by turning one's bones, into sharing the joys of the physical state from time to time in a ritually united mind.