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Saging, a Poem

Aromatic burning, smoke wafting upwards,

Dish of glowing sage offered North, East, South, West

Cleansing old energy, making room for new

We have accumulated years,

Were young Turks once

The Ottoman Empire reduced to metaphor

Our fate, like Black Elk, to speak from experience

Chanting with the spirits of the West, South, East, North


To sit with suffering

Seasons for enlightenment

Or not

Idiot adages, unchallenged, are enough

The purple flowers of Common Sage, the gray green of leaves

Lavender, dried by the bed, for soothing sleep

Or tea, the herbs of yore, hyssop, purple, too

The plants of magic, green into blue

East, West, North, South

May claim witchy ways

I can raise my arms in blessing

And you can, too,

We do not bless enough, everyday priestly powers

West, East, South, North

Peace I leave with you

My peace I give to you

The Christos and Muhammed

Athena and Sophia

Or Common Sage, the garden variety

We, too, can heal.

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