Words before a Rite

by Benjamin Oldham


Consider the rippling of water,

deep, emerald-black water,

and bronze on the surface

where the golden light falls

like pillars into a monument.

In this water lie the jaguar,

the condor, and the snake:


The jaguar is the deep

reflected in the shallow,

rising from beneath,

the black coat behind the mirror

that sheens holographic

upon the surface;

the water does not ripple

without power.


The condor is the surface,

feather-light,

turning wind in the wing

with slight movements

to hold the glinting bronze

for a moment;

the water does not ripple

without the ephemeral.


The snake is the current

undulating in the gem pool,

serpentine, eternally stirring

black depth

and shimmering columns

to keep them from separating

like oil and water;

the water does not ripple

without tension.


Consider the depths of you,

the power,

and the surface, the ephemeral

and the tension coursing in you;

you are at once the jaguar,

the condor, and the snake

in the sunken temple.

Then you are ready.