Thursday, 13 June 2013

"Holy, Wholly My Own" (1987) by Colin Mackay

I will think no more
for thought is aggravation,
will creep to no more gurus
for they are shrewd thinkers on thrones of power,
will blow no more joints to enrich
the exploiters of the world, but will return
back down through the green door
to the place of my beginning,
where all stone commandments are broken,
where all cold idols are thrown in the sea,
where no cage stands, where no chains bind
in a land where there are
no crosses,
and I will be at one
with the reeds and the the foxglove,
at one with the heather
and the wild broom,
I will sink into the earth,
this my flesh my body my blood will be,
and the flowering hawthorn will know
me in its roots,
and the whaups will cry for me,
and the white clouds will be my prayers,
and I will be no more a servant  of They Told Me To
but holy and wholly my own,
and will in all things find
the pure beginning
as it was in the beginning
when  the wind first ruffled the earth's green hair.

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