My bones, my bones-
the keepers of my soul,
in tending to you
I am singing a song so old.
Older than Oak,
older than the stories carved in
the walls of caves,
older than the Grandfather stones.
I sing the song that formed the Universe,
that brought eternal warmth to the sunshine,
that shook the Earth with such power,
she created mountains.
This song lives in the river beneath the river,
in the first beat of a heart,
in the world of dreams not
yet dreamt.
This is the song of the Goddesses
and the Warriors.
This song is what the wolves hear
when they are howling at full moon.
This is the song that heals,
that mends the broken heart,
that makes the motionless and tired body dance,
that lets the soul avow its truth.
This is the song that creates undying love.
I heard this song first,
not when life was sweet like the nectar of flowers,
but when my bones were shattered
like a star dying in the cosmos;
when everything I had ever known
burned to dust in the palms of my hands.
I sang this song first
when I had no choice
but to begin piecing myself back together again.