Deborah

Deborah

Hear me, Deborah, my love
You, who drag events, stone tables and shatter pillars

Who are the incarnation of Justice for those who defend
Sam’s Creek, and the prophetess of the activation

And I saw your daughter high in the coal bucket
Defending the Denniston Plateau
Which I know and love
And she’s part of the legacy of gutsy women
Who have always risen against the bullies and greedies
Who defile the West Coast

And you are a gift
And have always been a gift

And I, a tiny seed
Scattered from the sack of weeds
Carried by my angel, who joins us
In our lovemaking, which is true and strong

& how can it be otherwise
When love embraces beauty
In the beating core of Deborah’s song

Which is born of eros
And bees
And big enough to contain

The raucous applause of stars

~ 

Tell me, how could rock enter the works of Deborah? (The only female Judge, Judges 4 and 5)
(The Song of Deborah, see Judges 5)

I dragged events, stoned tables and shattered pillars

 She has a gift, and has always been a gift

 Planted from a bag of weeds (followed by a vision of a huge garden). My life and work began as a tiny seed planted by my angel, which grew into the Garden of Eden.