Maracle / BIO
The Call: Breath is wind, Voice is wind, Wind is power
We enter the world wailing, fighting for breath
first breath assaults the skin, offends the body
Insulted, we weep, unsure we want to be here
The woman who bore us murmurs
Vocables - intended to soothe
Sharpens the surgical light
This first language recedes under soft incantations
family chatter intoning us in urgent nonsense
to bond, to connect, to seek joy
These murmurs lighten the burden of being
in this our grand entry into the world of shadow, of light
at times too bright, in folds too dark
wondering without knowing, looking not seeing.
breath sparks up courage
to listen and sing back
Everything begins with song
the sweet mountain breath of wind whispering through cedar - earth’s symphony, Wind
taps out tunes to the valley floors, even the howling storm winds sing agonizingly
beautiful songs, arias of painful transformation we come to love.
Songs hooked to the language of wind lessens this burden of being
couples itself to the promise of language;
voice elevates being, renders life manageable;
There is power in the breath we pass over vibrating vocal chords.
The words carry a charge
The spark invites response
The hum of song points receivers in the direction of the good life.
The breath of others takes their own journey through the body,
passes breath through some imagined future