The Teacher Speaks

We sit straight
Hold our hands open as cups
Breath deep swelling breaths
My lips form familiar words
But I am not speaking
It is the mother who is speaking
Out through the channel
Of my throat
I am riding on the dark resonance
Of her voice
That is not my voice
But hers
I listen as she speaks
She is telling us now
To come touch each other
I feel other hands move warm into mine
I glance at the clock
We have one human hour
The room is darkening
The mother is saying to close our eyes
We do
And we see vast distances inside of ourselves
We see infinite darkness & there we find color
We are watching our blood flow
In rich salty rivers
We are touching the ivory metal of bones
Our bodies are flowing in rhythm
With the centuries
Slow as a tide moving over an island
We are mists bringing life to dark clay
Making flesh
Moving our flesh over ivory bones
I listen with heart expanding
I listen with mind carefully tuned
I speak but the voice is not mine
All ears are turned inward
The mother is speaking –
Of peace
Her voice that is sweet like the worlds
That are breathing within us
Is speaking of peace
Is speaking of peace
We are joined in the flow of the breath
Of her breathing
The mother is flowering
The mother is flowering
I listen I hear words
I listen I hear words & winds
I listen I hear winds & waters
We are swimming in the dark honey
Of the song of our mother
We are holding together like the cells
That make up a creature
We are breathing one breath like the breath
Of the planet
Not sleeping nor waking
And still we are watching
With visions that rise to a place
Some call heaven
We are joined in a blessing
That is ours for the asking
We are vessels of peace
We are vessels of peace

-written by Joan Dobbie
*This poem appeared in HEAVEN BONE, 1987, in MOTHER EARTH TAKES TO SMOKING, 1988, and In EUGENE YOGA, 1999.


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