December


You can enter
The dark cave of December
At any moment –
Without fear or dread –
Turn your back
On summer–heated
Activity
And feel the cool air of aeons
Still upon your cheeks
Undisturbed
Unperturbed
By daily distractions
Look to your feet
Upon the bare, bone-strewn floor,
Listen to the silence,
The sound of unfilled space
Breathe in the dampness,
Rock-laden
Taste it all
In slow time
Nourishing
Your over–stimulated senses.

Do not fear
The cold,black days of winter,
Or the nights
Of the dying moon
When the wolf pack howls
Its ghostly lament.
Nor turn the she-wolf
From her den.
Rather,
Feed her the remains
Of your unwanted memories,
Let her gnaw
On your discarded carcases
For her life-blood
Will warm you
When the midwinter icicles
Splinter your heart.


No Hades,
This underworld,
Neither banishment,
Nor punishment
But a haven,
A deep-littered lair
Where breathing slows
Into sleep
And the pregnant pause
Of the year.
Let go the hanging shreds
Of your old war-torn pelt –
Come deeper into the darkness
Where topaz eyes
And rasping tongue
Greet you.
Come into the wonder
Of your underworld,
This inner fortress of your being.
Bring down the panting breath,
Close the tired eyes
And ears,
Run your fur
Over the rough and smooth
places
And spaces
Between
As you would caress
The inner skin
Of your creative mind.
Learn this unseen
Grey body around you
Intimately,
Surround yourself in touch,
Sink your belly
Into the soft bed
Of leaves,
Drinking from the earth
As you need.

Now,
In this abiding calm
Invite imagination
To come and play
Shape-shifting games
Wrap yourself in mystery
In the dim sound-stream
Of half-formed words,
Unspoken ideas
And wait patiently
For the inner door to open
On the magical journey
As the she-wolf waits
Her time for birth.
Whoever told you
DecemberWas a dead month?