All photos and content © Tanya Anguita.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

The Muse Breathes

Thoughts are put to paper
when the Muse breathes
through my hands,
and leaps bravely
across my barriers
into the sunlight of the day.

She is a wrangler of words
Chasing them down the plains of my soul
as they,
run before her
like so many bison
through the tall grasses of my mind.

She is a word dancer
A language choreographer
Lithely swaying to the music of my desires.
She feels the rhythm in my heart,
matches it with her own
and teaches my words
to move across the page
with grace and beauty.

She is a word-spinner;
A weaver of things written.
She finds the weft and wab of
just pronouncement
and runs the shuttle through
the tender parts of my mind.
She creates
order from disorder
beauty from chaos.
She is an artist creating a cloth
that is greater than
the sum of our parts.

She is a word archer
Pulling back arrows of clarity
and sending them
pointed and dangerous
across the skies of the divine
where they hit the bullseye
of the ego and pierce
the skin of my fears.

She is a warrior woman
bare breasted and powerful
waiting, Amazonian, to strike
at my bullshit
and hit my anxieties
with the contents of her golden quiver.

© Tanya Anguita

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