You Wear My Words, Mother

You wear my words, Mother,
Around Your neck.
Around Your heart
They circle round,
Each word a sound, a thought, a voice,
A mind. Silent,
Mute with wonder.

That has but sought Your feet—
Blood that for age upon age,
Life upon life,
Has fallen upon the earth,
Like every fallen corpse…
Each drop echoes
Every final cry: "Where are You?"

I grew again and yet again,
A thirst mightier than any seed,
Thrusting me out of every clay prison
Only to gaze upon a sky of yet clay.

This battle is not for blood,
This sword smiles
Not for an ounce of dirt,
Nor for any forsaken innocence.
This is a smile born of severance,
This is a joy known only by catching
Your reflection as I stared
Into eyes of pure pain.

These armies but walk into Your mouth,
Their sounds die as they fall upon Your tongue,
Their words consumed by Thee,
Seeds taken by the tree, tasted fruit,
Flowers cut and strung along Your thread,
These jewels, silent and flecked with red.

You wear my words, Mother.
Around Your neck.
Around Your heart.

- Swami Ambikananda Saraswati
Full moon, August 31st, 2012