My Voice

The night before the dawn

Hyenas crossed my path on my way

To the seer-mountain;

I held my horsetail, miming a chant

Hyenas crossed my path

And nearly strangled my voice

And burnt my horsetail

They stole my guiding tool

They strangulated my glottis

But before I returned from the seer-mountain

My voice births new vocalic vibrations

And the primal voice-smith awaits me

With a newer horsetail

A more storm-ful horse tail

I am the single voice roaring in your cluster-dreams

The orphaned raindrop licking the dust of your sole

Time before birth I was a sound in the clouds.

My voice is the scattered shower

That overthrows gigantic ant-hills.

08/10/11 ACCE-Madina.