My Eye Was Listening

My Eye Was Listening

My Eye Was Listening

I was listening and preparing tomorrows with my hand
building cradles for a future earth, soil, seed, flame
a blossoming whole and complete. One degree separated
from we, she, me, be womb-man, needing soul
comfort, natural caressing on me, tongue propagating soul talk
speaking words like Psalms, an Ayat of perfection sliding off open palms.

I wear you like a garment, naked that only your I sees,
your eye been holding testaments and commandments, parting seas,
blowing at the wings of for-get-me-nots and feeding crows on
the path to peace. Shadows reflect on verses colliding, electric, eclectic,
concentric, essence bare and beautiful, my I a hunger.

See… I be searching for you, I be calling to you,
I be making pheromone proclamations, I be praying to your absence.
A million hands have removed my veil to touch my I but my eye
was listening to you before ever knowing you. See…
many have appeared somewhat, even close to, almost the,
but none ever… none ever be We.

(c) A Hannan

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4 thoughts on “My Eye Was Listening

  1. Wordless whisper of the forest, I hear,
    Ancient and fraught, incense of a white tear
    Burning forever in the eye of God,
    Kissing the souls free from all chaining fear.

    The whisper recites as before the dawn,
    The oldest of prayers, with God’s hand sawn,
    And my heart in silence, receives the tune,
    The breath that his beat, from the womb had drawn.

    With eyes closed I know, now I remember,
    The eyes I saw at birth, burning amber,
    As drops of water on a thirsting tongue,
    Her face and her presence kiss me sober.

    When sightless yet I were, I dwelled in her,
    Now that I live, my heart, feels her fever
    In the breeze that he follows with no end,
    Searching eternal, her deeps of rapture.

    At the mountain peak, my verse I recite,
    The echoes of my longings, high ignite,
    Clouds of stars that drizzle upon her cheeks,
    Seeds of my being, wings that keep her flight.

    Her name on my tongue, though never spoken,
    Her face from my heart has never broken,
    Each morning her graceful hand stirs my eyes,
    At midnight, her breath, a silver ocean.

    All language is forgotten in her arms,
    Oblivion rules as heaven’s gate swarms
    Angels in legions that rise us to God,
    Songs of drunkenness wrought with sinful charms.

    The wordless whisper of the forest falls,
    Pure dew on my skin that glistens and calls
    Flowers and birds, a mantle for my sleep,
    Her lithe vine entwining me in green shawls.

    This is the oldest poem that I have ever known. Its words change, its feelings intensify or falter, but it remains, she remains — now, and forever. My every tear slides upon her cheek; my every laugh echoes in her heart; my every seed of longing grows in her palm. She is unknown, unfathomable, here forever and yet distant always. She is my woman, my beloved, my goddess, my muse, the harbinger of death, the prelude to rebirth eternal. Crystal clear now she is though I may never see her. The seeds of her longings and the curve of her hips rest in my lap and grow a forest, a garden, a desert, a dance of joy and woe. I love her now as the first day I met her on eternity’s slopes. I love her now as I’ll love her at the hour of my death, in her arms and breath. I love her…

    My midnight lamp is forever lit upon my wooden door…

    This, the poem of poems, prayer of prayers, salat of dawn and dusk, kiss of dew and lightning, sealer of fates and redeemer of hearts, this, my beloved, my One, my all…

    With her, our laughter is the fluttering beat of God’s very heart.

  2. “This, the poem of poems, prayer of prayers, salat of dawn and dusk, kiss of dew and lightning, sealer of fates and redeemer of hearts, this, my beloved, my One, my all…”

    -smiles and exhales-

  3. The Morning Star

    My lamp was lit for you to find my door,
    In the woods, deep, where hermits till love’s shore –
    But hearing your call, my wings shook and flew,
    A song in your dawn, through your eyes, I pour.

  4. I am inside your ocean
    And your ocean is inside of me.

    Happy, I listen to the waves
    Singing as they come crashing
    Against me, rubbing me clean,
    Inside-out.

    Dawn arrives, and I listen.
    My body within my body grows.
    I birth arms and wings
    In endless numbers
    As I swim and flutter
    Inside of you,
    Always towards you.
    In every breath,
    In every quiver of energy,
    In every beat of heart,
    With all arms and wings
    And to the fullness of my strength
    I swim and flutter
    Towards the shores of you,
    Shores stretching endless
    Within and without.

    Oh, how your breath guides me.
    I wake up to it at night lapping
    Like gentle waves against
    The white shore of my pillow,
    Lapping and caressing,
    Stroking, loving, caring,
    Breathing warmth into
    My dreams and veins,
    Sustaining life’s growth.

    My existence?
    Who asks of that
    And what of my existence remains?
    An island withdrew into itself
    Until it became the ocean — you,
    A flame extinguished in your sun.

    Existence is meaning
    And meaning is you.

    I gather questions
    From fields of
    Logic, science, and philosophy,
    Religion, poetry, and art,
    Questions as old as humanity
    And others born in the cradle of modernity,
    Questions grown in the deepest soil of Eye
    And I ask,
    I ask and hear your eyes answering,
    Still and silent, below audible
    They answer and with each
    Wordless word they utter within me buds
    And grows something new.

    Ah this breath!

    My existence?
    Its earth is your body,
    Your breath, its sky.

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