Altar
Her
trinkets and personal possessions scattered the
tattered chest
Treasures
brought back from her spiritual quest…
Young
Buddha heard the late night drums and the Ying Yang symbol draped her neck as
she
wandered amidst songs to Hare Krishna
Hippy
Highway heard the gentle jingles from angels ‘round her ankle and the soothing
incense smells cradled her to sleep.
And
here I am enthralled by the story of her scattered altar
This
sister who I may have passed late at night looking for a warm fire and sweet sounds
of a lilting mandolin
Who
knew my heart was still floating freely in the magical bitter roots and an
occasional, “We love you!” chorus
As I
vowed to nestle collected wares from my own spiritual adventure
So
sacred and divine as this carefully traded scarf that once adorned my dreaded
hair whispers those memories
Of the
peace I longed for chanted in those rhythmic drums
And
soothing yoga over-looking the expansive valley
As I
delicately place the lotus and energetic rocks upon my tapestry of moons
and stars
a top
my own tattered chest that contently becomes the altar I bow to.
Copyright Heather Corbet 2006
