Sirocco of Life

Breathing, You animate me, Holy Breath
with nothing less than wind wed to fire – a
sirocco of life – You
expand and collapse
Your lungs into mine.

I live for Your breath. Breathe me
a breadth of love, Holy Dove as
I gaze upon Your face. Erase my
disgrace as You whisper me a
shiver. I quiver at my
hair’s raising, my
resurrection.

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4 thoughts on “Sirocco of Life

  1. dianerivers says:

    I’m always so glad to see a new post from you. Your poetry is a delight on many levels and is frequently just what my day was missing. Today, for instance. Thank you.

  2. shoreacres says:

    I’ve experienced both sirocca and harmattan winds, and yet I don’t remember coming across a poem that uses either in its imagery. That combination of hot and fierce is a good one. The winds of the spirit aren’t always sweet, delicate breezes.

    Another thought: interesting that the hot, humid siroccos and the cold, dusty harmattans both have their origin in the Sahara. One source, different manifestations. That’s worth pondering.

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