The Wind My Mirror

The wind my mirror

I’m waiting
I’m waiting for the wind
To call me into action
Calling for the rain
To bless the land I tread on

Raindrops are the rhythm
Falling on my drum
Translating words of spirit
Into poetry called music

These herbs in front of me
Are my own very Being
Burning into ashes
Transforming into smoke
Travelling from Here to the Other

The woman in the mirror
Speaks of wisdom and truth
Demanding for freedom

I myself am the smoke
Cloaking the mirror
The mirror my gateway

I’m waiting for the wind
To blow away the smoke
The mirror into pieces
So I can become the wind

– by Kiki Toao –