Aziz Dixon | Deep memories

Inspired by a visit to an adobe village in New Mexico.

My tribe-brother puts down his smartphone,
and hands me a gift, sharp-pointed, flaked with skill,
an arrowhead, holding
memories of a thousand generations.

I am a man young and strong,
urgent and proud. The pulse in me
speaks from my pre-human past,
the pulse of creation, giving daughters and sons.

I sit in the hall; my tribe-family enfolds me.
Our elder, the one who speaks the ancestors’ stories,
summons words of prayer
from cave-ancient times.

No longer young, nor am I wise enough yet
to know what I do not know; but
the pulse of prayer heals me anew,
the lessons of pain dissolved by love.

One day may I rest
as dust, as zikr and Light,
beyond memories deep, with
all the illuminated souls, as ‘I’
dissolves in the pulse of the One.

Hopi-cliff-dwelling

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aziz Dixon lives in Rawtenstall, Lancashire, and recently launched his most recent collection of poems at the Burnley Literary Festival. Edmundazizdixon@gmail.com. 

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