Kavadi

For Gaia,

  may she forgive us

ash robes conceal
her hands once still,
now tracing
forgotten myths

her laughter softens
frozen seas
where silence once held
the secret of forgiveness.

unclear, she whispers
in the corners of caves
where blinded horses pull
drunken memories.

forgive me.

unwillingly, I strayed
into gardens, trespassing,
holding flowers
of barren seeds,

offerings
to those washed ashore
on plastic beaches

where once
the mystic footsteps
of stone and sand
echoed.

forgive us.

  for we have swallowed
the cloud
of the blue-throated god

and thinned his love
against the hard stone
of our confusion.

beneath the broken bottles,

who
  still
  traces
the shore?

lead us

         lead us

from what we have broken
to what still lives

from poisoned breath
to clear water

from our confusion
to the hidden light

within stone,
river,
  and

  breath.