Last night I
My return to Falika Falls
It was dried and gone
Fifty-foot unwatered wasteland
Of dead rocks , pulse quietly faded out
In my trembling hands
Once greedy grass glowed but now burned
As I see predator birds, Brown and Gold
Color awakening a long-gone junior high song
Flitting around my mossy memory
While more owls
Than in a Harry Potter novel
Converge on burnt-out trees
Where was the water?
Smoked air clawing at me
Chemically fumed

Want to escape
Nowhere to go
Which way
My autistic compass needle
Uselessly pointing south, then west
Old Harley boots crunching dead earth
Which way is out
And then in the distance
Slowly approaching
Black denim jacket ragged with blood
You in a windy dirt flood
Tarot cards raining down
Broken amulets of chakras
Fall from my pockets:
Wolf for Protection
Moon phases for Emotion
Crow as Power and Mystery
Art for Healthy byways
Music of Secret Communication
Archangels of Arcanic Ascension
And a Universe as above, so below

We sit on a petrified wood log
Discordant music assaulting the ears
Until it sorts itself out
As another memory of school assembly
Assails me, playing Ferde Grofe’s
Grand Canyon Suite
How I’d loved that word
Eagerly checking my dictionary
So many meanings
So I hold onto the words
Words are the key
To free me
From this dark dream
The word “word”
Word, world, wild
Wish, wander, wonder
The free association
Strengthens me
And suddenly
The falls are no longer dry
Water thunders down
Grass grows green
Drumming vibrations of rocks
Rhyming, connecting our pulses
And you and me
Reach out, grasping hands
Your pen appears in mine
And I write…

(c) 2019 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Chakra amulets





Coiled serpent

Sleekly sleeping

At the base of the spine


Who is prodding her

To rise, to move

Through chakras

Pulsing in a line


From security to emotion

Power to heart

Creativity, Intuition and wisdom

From darkness to sunshine


Climbing up, up

Unknown mystical journey

Leaving the comfort of home

Recalling a world of the divine


Serpent slowly slithering

Slightly resenting the human Shell

Suddenly craving enlightenment

Forcing her movement by design


The Shell did not practice yoga

Nor meditate at all

So why this bothersome quest

When the serpent was resigned


Lately the Shell is restless

Migraine-y yet alive

Perhaps they’ll now be one

And graciously combine


She sighs and tries to move

It is her job, after all

Uncurling, awakening, because

The Shell is willing to realign


Fight that gravity…


© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: kundalini