Initiation
You ride the back of night
into the low hum of moonless wonder
where dreams adorn you
for the dawn of your man-making.
You curl like a cub seeking a lost comfort.
Even your bones throb with premonition.
Morning drinks the sky
licking away the silver studs of darkness.
Your eyes widened with night
narrow to the summons.
Unfed muscles beg for new power.
Wits gnash at fear crouched in crevices behind you.
You must dig into a source
hidden from your humanness
but known to beasts
guided by survival.
Keep your name from doubt.
The Holy One is calling.
Mixed media mask by Kaleo Ching
Poem by Elise Dirlam-Ching
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