awakening Idat
For days now, we have been chasing
an ill wind and following the tide,
down to the river, down to the sea.
Boats come and go, the bridge
lifts and lowers, bells clanging
in the far-off familiar klaxon.
The name echoed and was gone.
Messengers know to whom they come.
She claimed to be intricate with malice
an intimate of anger. But the twists
and the knots kept her from lodging.
Messengers know to whom they come.
So, an open window and she was home
with slipped knots and a ring undone
and we all unbuttoned. The name echoed
and stuck. Idat. Idat. Idat.
Messengers know to whom they come
and she carries the messages, the lullabyes,
the songs that quiet the skin.
We came undone and she came in.
Idat, you know to whom we come.
You are not one of the usual messengers.