Heard

Like children who never can get enough
my voices clamor for attention.
Not all the voices are melodic.
Time to give ear to the unbeautiful,
time to love the angry voice
not only the poet’s, the lover’s voice,
but also the frightened voice,
the needy;
to gather them into my listening ear.

I call on the one who can hear,
dear voices, every one of you.
I will become Nakawé,
hearing you into being,
Come and bring the multitude
into Original Ear.
so my listening can braid the voices
into the sound
that makes me who I am.

I listen to each voice
with the tenderness of Nakawé,
until my whole is heard.
Heard! Its reverberation
purely heard in love.
Its frequency cherished,
allowed to vibrate freely
out and out into the cosmos,
into Original Ear.
©Susa Silvermarie 2021

The Wixárika (Huichol) of the Western Sierra Madres Mountains of Mexico hold Nakewé as Great Grandmother Growth, Creator, Original Ear.