Rakau Ngakau

SOC Writing _ 2nd October 2020

Rakau Ngakau

This tree - planted by streams of living water – that brings forth its fruit in season, does not wither and whatever I do shall prosper. The proverbs of the wise are like sweet honeycomb – I listen, take in the blessings and like Jacob and Esau – do hold my father true to take the best of what he can offer me. It does require trickery at times – but the older brother always was a bit aloof – the secondary star of the stories – not prodigal enough son – but dutiful – in the wings – at the fathers’ beckon and call. Call out in the night and I shall answer you. Three times ask – speak Lord – your servant is willing – and go to Him – what did He impart to you? Like The Rose – was it sexual? Do you receive an import from the your breast – chest – lingam tones from the song of Solomon? Oh, oh, yes, you squirm – now the bible not meant to be that way – but we are that way inclined – Recline ourselves to what we seek – what feels good – if only we could get past the shame and loathing. But blessings – all through the testaments – blessing upon those who followed the universe (God) call – who were faithful to their true selves – sometimes just packing up and following a distant star – other times listening to the burning of nature – screaming out in pain that does not dissipate. You are listening now – even as the final hour lapses – the door remains open and like me, you float across the threshold of worlds – older places tracing your finger down the line of my spine to find exactly the crevice you can take hold of and pull against, rile against, punch and hit and scream and wail against. Inside you find a new depth of sorrow – a place reserved for the VIPS - for those wiling to plumb their depths so they can live their highest – for the highest – priestess, goddess, lover, soldier, fighter, mother, earth changer – and blameless in His sight. I rest here – beyond my work there is a place – written in gold - where I lay my head.