Mother Tongue

Featured in the May 2021 Issue of The Open Doors Review. 

Poem By: Curry Patricia Anton

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tell me of your
soil composition
the flows of your sacred waters and
the geology of your fertile body

and I will tell you about the seasons of
my heart
and where the map
of my wrinkles and scars, each a story,
have led
and where the kudu were last spotted
and whether the lion ate
last night

she sounded hungry

tell me of
blood, yours and mine
and the course of this red swelling river
carrying water from the hilltops where chai grows
and the forest is moist and loamy

whisper to me the texture of your dreams

and I will
relive mine
one by one
as I trace the map of the stars on the palm of your sky
through the wide braid of liquid light that glides overhead
each night

this season everybody eats, and hides, we agree

creatures unparallelled on earth become shadows
of themselves
amongst
verdant leaves
elephants tiptoe by leopards
laze unnoticed in the shady canopy and birds arrive
from elsewhere
as we do—
we migrate to where the grass is greener
to where freedom and wide open wildness reign, to where we nourish and birth
our children—in grass, in water, in rain—
we come home
to You

tell me, Mother, of the ways we are written in your rock
stacks of time
patterned sheaths
once thought to be flat
in upheaval
exuding secrets of our ancient stories
marriages, mergings, alchemy—
hidden in your substrata chemistry

tell me the story of your lilac breasted roller
your myriad sunbirds and why
this love for protea feels primordial
and how
the fiery throated nightjar
and the squeaky cisticola
have become the soundtrack of our lives
and the seeds of your sacred baobab
our medicine

nature speaks
 louder here
in the movement of sky
fierce cracks of lightning that dance the night awake
in the guttural rib ripping pulse of the lion’s roar that shakes the earth and
in the great raspy call of some creature, somewhere, in passion

I am undone
by your simbiosis
by your aquatic life and terrestrial death
by this net of light and shadow you weave with your leathery fingertips and delicate threads
of birdsong and river reeds
“up to my knees in earth,” she said, remembering
all wild ways out on display
against the depth and density of sky
like generous ocean waves of clouds
moving us graciously through this spacious mystery

the truth is—
this love runs in red rivers and fuels this red earth in it’s blazing abundance of
wildly decorative Life, in all her many forms

She calls to us incessantly
beckons unceasingly

shall we listen?
and do we truly hear?

will we allow her the gracious space
the silence
the grace
to enter?

to come home to us?

She is speaking our soul’s own language
in its own
mother tongue

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Author Bio: Born and raised in California, Curry Patricia Anton has spent much of her life traveling the globe gleaning inspiration from many lands and cultures. She spent the past 10 years living in Tanzania, building Ohana Amani, a transformative learning center, permaculture farm, ecolodge & regenerative community dedicated to creating Peace Between Those Who Breathe Together. Last year she sold her farm in Africa and moved with her partner and son to Florence, Italy, a place that has alway captivated her heart, and long been a part of her family lore. There she continues her work in resilience, regeneration and the Creative and Healing Arts. She is currently working on her first book of poetry, dedicated to her love for Africa, and the many sacred lands we all call home.