the empty bowl

one night
i sat, it seemed,
at the bottom of
a great empty bowl….

the ground spread flatly
away from me….

the vast deep
translucent lavender sky
melted backwards
into space
above me….

all around me
a great hollowness
rose up to meet infinity….

the birds held their breath
the breeze settled

even my thoughts
quietly filed out

to gaze blankly, instead,
at that sunset-infused expanse….

between me and the next star:
nothing….

•

the quiet deepened,
the sky darkened slowly….

space unveiled itself
before my watching eyes….

i sat
awe-touched

witnessing
this great celestial
rolling and turning --

from darkness
back to darkness --

an unstoppable cycle
linking observers
across the eons --

i sensed
a silent fertility
held by the dark….

•

against this great
unfolding dance,

the glow
of firestones arose….

solid black hills revealed
their graceful upwelling curves
in silhouette….

trees and nightbirds
issued soft murmurings, rustlings,
quiet calls –-

wet earth exhaled
a freshly greened scent --

the empty bowl
rapidly filled

with
mystery
upon mystery….

•

behind me
i heard a voice say:

today i held the eagle feather
up to the sky….

i showed it to the east,
to the west,
the north
and the south…..

the voice faded,
and as the firelight
played,
(a tiny star)

i gave thanks

for eagle feathers
for sky
and for the
empty
fertile
dark….

__
________
©2011
Beth Anne Boardman