How we hide it from our minds,
the site of the link
on each body ever born.
Trained to disregard
the stub of the sacred cord,
we are lost, longing
for forgotten female origins.
Time to praise the omphalos.
Time to look, and look well,
at the precious place of life’s own download.
Let us belly dance with bells.
Let us gaze upon our navals
and travel thus
to the holy hub of planet self,
to the wisdom of connection.
The button in each belly
burns back and back through time
through all ancestral mothers.
What unites us all
might yet save us from destruction
The site of the link
on each body ever born
proclaims that we are one.
For the motherbond yokes one and all.
I watch, across the lake,
dark arms of falling water,
rainfall pouring on the mountains.
The sea of the lake pitches and rolls
from the south and east
with the Guaracheño wind,
night descending now,
congealing the greengray waves.
Lovers on the Malecon
only give attention to each other
though perhaps their ardency
feeds the growing storm.
At the edge of water
a musician lifts his saxophone
to send his trills into the mix.
Lightning flashes horizontal
kissing the hills like a hissing snake
in a singular blaze of passion.
And again, prone,
this time lightning
swaddles the long line of hills
in its white blanket of illumination.
Finally it stabs, vertical to earth.
Every strike, I gasp in gratitude.
The rain begins in gentle drops.
The saxman stays, and the lovers,
and so must I, revel in
this world, this weather, this being alive.
*Beltane is a Pagan high holy day held on May 1, midway between Spring Equinox and Summer Solstice. Lake Chapala, shallow and fifty miles in length, 5000 feet above sea level, is located just south of Guadalajara in central Mexico.