The New Archaic

In the beating of my heart I hear
the beating of your drums.
In the whirring of my brain I hear
the shaking of your rattles and
the jingle of your dusty steps.
I myself take up the rhythm;
I myself take up the dance.

In the beating of the drum,
I lay down my hours,
lay down my time,
lay down these thick
and heavy ways.
I lay down this kind of time
and take up the ancient ways,
recalling the not-forgotten
I lay my self down in long-ago trance.

In the beating of the drum, I hear
your feet come near to me, hear your
hearts in my own body, your thoughts
in my own mind, strong and clear as
shining stars, deep and long as rivers run.

Nearer now celestial wheels, your spirits
awake my ears; beaming faces full of hope,
you know and claim me as your own.
My own beloveds, yes, and look behind you!
Back and back spirals are turning,
eternally beating, beaming, whirring.

On the double helix road, walking
the heartbeat way, out of time and space
and into re-membering of bonds never broken.
Face to face, you reach in deep and pull a
still-life snake from inside the guts of me
Wake this sleeping snake, you say
And begin the new archaic.

© Anne Benvenuti 2008
Published in We’Moon Calendar, Mother Tongue Ink: 2010

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