Deborah Leipziger

Self, Archeologist

            After Walt Whitman

I celebrate myself and sing myself
my colors and countries
symmetries and symbols
the color of veins
reddening purple,
my pulsating heart.

I sing the temples   beloved
the words   recovered
the mazes    discovered

I celebrate my nimbus of curls
nipples    neck     navel

I celebrate my survival
from the umbilical cord
wrapped around my neck

I celebrate my geography
canyons   buttes   mesas
my Amazon   my Nile.

The planets whisper to me,
constellations call me
chanting of Newness 

I open myself and claim my
I transform and sing
my Evolution

I celebrate the concave
and convex
the rounded   the bonded
the turning     becoming
the rawness    evolved

I sing the poets before me
pollinating my poems
I sing of the borders
my ancestors crossed
gems sewn in hems

Or is it legend?
I celebrate the fiction and non-fiction
the manic and tragic
festivals past   holidays not
yet named
I honor and celebrate the Becoming

I channel the coincidental
the purely purposeful
the rant   the chant
the prayer   the poem

I rejoice in sleep
swallowing the tidal grief,
the delirium

I sing the mycelium
the chariots   the twilight
the self        
The castle   fort   water tower
lighthouse   reservoir
all built within me

I sing of the forests
turned to desert   the polar caps
to water  

I believe in the ancestors
joining me   a happy ghosting,
I escaped for you
I am because you are   

I approach the wild
the chameleons
changing blue to green
red to yellow and back.

I am the bromeliad
collecting water
aromatic   the lilac

I honor my departures
all the places
where I receded and went.



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