I Hear My Voices Clamor
I hear my voices clamor
for attention!
Like children who can never
each get enough.
Not all of the voices
are beautiful.
Time to give
the unbeautiful my ear,
to love the angry voice
the wanting voice,
the frightened voice, the needy,
not only the poet’s voice,
the lover’s voice.
I gather them all
into my listening ear.
Dear voices, I call
Nakawe, the one who can hear
all of you.
I will be Nakawe,
listening you into being,
Come and bring the multitude
of your every voice,
into my Original Ear.
My listening
will braid your voices
into the sound
that makes me who I am.
I will listen to each voice
with the tenderness of Nakawé,
until the whole is heard.
Heard!
Its reverberation
purely heard in love.
Its frequency cherished,
allowed to vibrate freely
out and out into the cosmos.
Into Her Original Ear.
©Susa Silvermarie 2021
(The Wixárika (Huichol) of the Western Sierra Madres Mountains of Mexico hold Nakewé as Creator, Great Grandmother Growth, Original Ear)
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