Tribal Recollections 3
The birds are floating in the night sky.
The birds are floating in the night sky.
The moon is huge and round and golden.
The Mother sleeps inside a ring of stones:
great monoliths, tall and dark.
She lies on a bed of stone
with a stone pillow.
“Mother,” whisper the birds,
“We have loved you, how can we leave you
alone under the sky in the deepening dark?”
But she says nothing. She never stirs.
A large bird stays
poised in the air above her,
gazing down. The protective wings
are outstretched over her. The blue fringe
on wings and tail makes a guiding signal
she can follow home ... if ever she wakes.
The other birds are flying away
more and more distant, smaller and smaller
in the grey sky. A purple snake
undulates across the sand by her bed.
She murmurs in her sleep but doesn't wake.
If she would pick up the snake,
she would be a healer.
