Mirikin's Poetry - Page Three

The Song Of Lower Caves

by Mirikin

Leader of the Lower Cave
of the Red Eyed People

Pink Baby Breath New

The sounds of cloth,

        Against our skin.
        Against the basket.
        Among the others.

She, in soft, yellow light.
He, in soft, yellow light.
The others, in soft, yellow light.
She, He, the Others clothed in white.
The soft yellow of wax flaming.
The beautiful warmth of wax flaming.
The wondrous smell of wax flaming.
From the view of our basket.

The kiss.
The touch
The love.

The pain.
Strong hands
That hold.
Sharp wood
That hurts.

        My face,
        Our face,
        My nose,
        Our face.

Golden Cattails New

Blackening fog.

        No pain.
        No sound.
        No warmth.

Where am I?

        No pain.
        No sound.
        No warmth.

Who are you?

        I am Shiritin.
        And I am Imidin.

Your brothers.
Your friends.

We will stay here.

And hide.

        No pain.
        No sound.
        No warmth.

Here we are safe.
With each other.

Who are you?

        I am Hirimin.
        I dance with Dharmini.

        I am Dharmini.
        I play the gong.

Let us dance and sing together.

.: continued on page four :.

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