Empress of Unseen Colors

Empress of Unseen

by Karen Fox

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Iris

goddess of the rainbow

my child and ancestor

herald of the all-seeing

weaves divine colors into spiral strands

which pour out from earth sky

luminous portal and spectrum bridge

lighting mortals into being

while keeping the eternal flame alive

And

I

am

the empress

of a land not yet born

my people do not exist

yet

their arms stretch

longing

across the VAST EXPANSE

equipoised between yearning and embrace

what once was and what is

imagining and circumstance

their eyes

flames without candles

shine in the cavern of my heart

I house them

'chop wood carry water'

keeping quiet

so too are their voices

not yet heard

and although no audible sound may resonate

they vibrate

wherever sound and light

cohabitate

remember dears

of the rolling of time

the future just behind the past

the spiral being life's true path

and you will begin to discern

that the voices of my people

live even without birth

exuding through soon-to-be-opened eyes of babes

in proud mothers' bellies

humming in ritual chants of women making clay bowls

pouring in their heart blood

echoing of mermaid requiems

swimming Fleur de Lis patterns in subterranean grottos

whimpering of dog pups

thrown out of a truck onto the interstate highway at 3 am

oohing and aweing of throngs on rooftops

at the fireworks display on Lady Liberty's hundreth birthday

gasping of passersby

at the faint rat-a-tat of guns

and the downing of innocent people

moaning of an aging whale

who no longer hears her sisters

on the other side of the sea

and the simultaneous screams of an albino peregrine falcon

chasing a black vole on a mountain desire path and

an enraged slightly overweight grocery store shopper who cannot find her favorite gluten free pizza...

and intoned in songs

we sing amongst extinct wild grasses

while swaying in concentric circles

around the hearth fire on the isle of the dead

their voices vibrate

into the weave of the mother grid

that we may hear all or part

when we are willing and ready

THE MOTHER GRID

for those who know her not

is in equal part

time and space

idea and face

light and dark

weft and warp

disease and healing

enemy and counterpart

all that we know

and the birth womb of blackest glow

her luminous fabric

smooth and rough

covers

catches

clutches

conceives

recycles and reuses us

when pearls and knots

give way to fertile humus

though their voices flow through the dendrites

their shining lights glisten

my people are the unseen and unheard

except that I give them audience

and lovingly listen

we meet in dreams and water droplets

shape shifting moonlight flights

to the tune of sighs and whispers

catalogued from sleepless nights

and the unmeasurable moment before waking

or

when I am well rested

I close my lids

leave my body well protected

and journey to the great hall of my vine entwined castle

summon advisors to attend

and sit around the endless round table

made of contiguous living wood

it shrinks and grows

so there is always a place for everyone

I sit at six o'clock and blur my eyes

that I may see who arrives

then wait patiently until all seats are filled

all are not human in my country

some are trees

elementals

whippoorwills

while others assume a human form

in order to be understood

or perhaps

feel less awkward in a chair made of wood

we begin our lively conversation

when our speaker

self-defined

fills the final seat

at the twelve o'clock station

a question is asked

ushered from either myself or the speaker

on one occasion

I recall something about the relations between

one's inner purpose and outer evidence

what portion choice

which carved by providence

before anyone speaks

we pause

listen to the silence

a crown suddenly sets on my head

bedazzled with gemstones

it spins

until one settles just above my third eye

a light from behind

refracts

we are bathed in its unique wisdom

one shared breath

and then

the speaker alights

starts the discussion

all who wish to share are granted this

our hearts and minds are freely given

perhaps you want to know which gem

chose to enter the circle

what was her color

her given name

what is her worth

what quality did we obtain

I could tell you

what was said

agreed

debated

what truths betrothed

which I now hold in my magic spell treasure trove

alas I cannot

I am the empress

of a land not yet born

I protect and serve

my subjects

let it suffice

that I offer

my insight

as one who holds flames without bodies

in the cavern of my heart

hears voices not yet spoken

holds yearning arms

not yet touched

let me offer a page

from the book of art

let this be enough

our true nature is born and grows

in our imagination

brilliant gems in the dark womb

once they are plucked

like roses from the stem

they lose their umbilical connection

to the wisdom of the VAST EXPANSE

as well as their unique vision

just another diadem

sold at auction

at Sotheby's or Amazon Marketplace

it is not my order

to advise

as you are of the world materialized

nonetheless

a gentle suggestion

share what you will to the lighted world

project your phantasm

feel free

but please...

keep your true colors

in the cavern of your heart

don't let yourself be plucked

stay rooted in the richness of the dark

be well