In the vastness of time I stand in this brief moment between a dream and a dream with no name, no face, no past and no future; alone and naked, giving the light of not-being to the false dreams of prophecy and the path; breathing hope to the hopeless hearts; narrating the stories of the void; burning my light over and over until nothing remains of me. — “Stories For Ugly Children” by Koyote the Blind
Today is the Transgender Day of Remembrance. It is a day to remember those who were murdered for having the courage to be who they are.
Here is a token to all transgender people, my people, a haiku in memoriam of your beautiful lives where you have had the bravery to find yourselves and to seek to reflect the inner in the outer.
You join a long list of people killed for being themselves. Every cultural, political, gender, religious, sexual, racial, condition, and national label that has caused you to be discriminated, assaulted, or killed is one of the deepest shames of humanity.
To have the courage to continue to pave the way for a humanity that is just and enlightened is now our burden.
I am that I AM.
Beyond all labels and names,
I see me in you.
Koyote the Blind
Every thought comes and goes.
Every second of time comes and goes.
Every aspiration comes and goes.
Every lifetime I’ve had, it comes and goes.
Every second of time, it comes and goes.
Every flicker of time, it comes and goes.
The watcher watches; and when I move,
the watcher watches.
When I dance, the watcher watches.
When I love, the watcher watches.
When I kill and consume the flesh of my enemy,
the watcher watches.
When I sin of hatred, the watcher watches.
When I sin for love, the watcher watches.
When I pray to God, the watcher watches.
When I blaspheme against God, the watcher watches.
The watcher watches all the time;
and it does not change;
it does not move.
The watcher watches;
and the watcher inside me is what the five watchers
perched on the Tree of Life,
and through the darkness within them,
watch the watcher within.
(The Watchers, from Koyote’s Angelic Host series)
What I can observe is that in the distant depth of the night, there in the profundity of the nocturnal sky where the night and the silence are perennial and identical, the stars shiver silent and distant, allowing me to perceive through the immense void the vibrations of silence.
So long in exile,
I’ve made the wandering winds
my most firm abode.
She comes to me naked, in the purity of her presence, without the garments of light, sounds, life and thought.
I’ve known her longer than myself. I’ve known her before I, before time, before the memory of her.
I have seemed to forget her, and in the dark dungeons of forgetfulness, in that mindless chaos of existence, I looked for her.
She was there, always, hidden in every desire and every which pain.
Behind every corner of thought, peeking or waiting at the periphery of the horizon of time and experience, she shines eternally in relentless and unwavering wait.
She weaves and undoes the endless tapestry of existence phenomenal, waiting for the beloved to come to her as vagabond, worthless suitor, with his only claim in the secret chamber of his heart–an arrow certain and true.
She comes to me naked, silent, and I am blinded and deafened by her all consuming touch.
Clear waters shinning
sun, stars, and moon from within;
for my eyes to drink.
Whose child is that soul,
staring back at me at night
behind mirror’s eyes?
always swaying with the wind.
Open to the sky.
A breath of light robed
with shy dance of endless flames
comes to form my eye.