|
My
body
speaks
in
a
dead
language
one
older
than
Christ
and
Yahweh
older
than
Mother
Gaia
and
the
Great
Father
older
than
Babel,
Sumer,
Cairo
language
beyond
the
clay
people,
before
dawn
language
beyond
words.
My
body
speaks
in
a
dead
language
the
language.
Language.
Alpha
lingua
a
language
that
understands
the
beauty
written
by
DNA*
sees
truth
in
emotion,
instinct
guttural
curses,
divine
incantations
poetic
body
all
intolerant
and
driven
obsessed
with
creation,
contact
body
poetica,
brilliant
blazing
agony
desire.
My
body
speaks
in
a
dead
language
music
without
melody
or
rhythm
star
song
lexicon,
angel
words
hipsters
weaving
messianic
dreams
hopi
and
hieroglyphs
before
metrosexuals
and
rainbow
coalitions
before
right
and
wrong.
Before
guilt
before
everything
beyond
nothing
when
all
was
one
single
pulsing
obliterating
swirl
of
divine.
Let
us
sing
our
own
faith
and
beauty
and
sweet
sweet
grace.
Come
speak
with
me
in
a
dead
language.
|
By
The
Window
©2004
Ingrid
Swillens
*That
beauty
written
in
your
DNA
the
irreducible
spark
that
cannot
be
created,
eternal.
The
here
and
now
of
you
defined
by
your
being
that
needs
no
reason
or
excuse.
It
just
is. |