no one knows our name
“no one knows our name until our last breath goes out.” rumi
i want to use the name god gave me
the one according to what is inside,
no one knows us until we tell them our real name,
not the one our mother and father picked for us
to honor an uncle or a favorite movie star,
the name of a dead relative or what sounded right
at the moment the water broke,
i want a name to reflect my own nature,
what is the name of water rushing down a rocky stream bed,
how do you call the foam lashed at the end of fierce waves?
who can name the fog that hangs at the tops of tall trees
near the ocean?
call out the name of the warm pocket of air
that sits at the bottom of a small clearing and wafts there,
we are all reminders of what we were called,
our true intention our real purpose our initiative,
there are prayers being offered for you,
near the edge of giant lakes,
in jungle mountains of chiapas, at the mouth of sounds
of great bays, prayers songs smoke rising to free you
and relieve your spirit,
let me use the name of wings flapping
high above where no ears can receive them,
give me the name of fins coursing through the dark under water waves,
shower me with the noises emanating from the caves where bats sleep,
god has named me and no one has ever uttered the sound,
i am hearing his voice now when i sleep,
i thought i heard muttering then whispers and now it is a shout,
it is a call to live, to be, to ingest, to roll in the ocean,
standing in the ocean surf with you i watch the roiling waves,
bluster of clouds and dark sand welling up from somewhere unseen,
distant ships loiter off the coast,
we walk transfixed and content,
i turn and send a prayer into the waters, you send yours too,
our feet soak in the salt water of the pacific,
you asked if puget sound smelled like the ocean
from here i can smell the salt blow in from the coast,
clouds carry the coast inland,
trees blow their lusty leaves in the may wind,
there is a warm sun outside and a cool wind,
you spoke to a man who makes spoons and forks from driftwood on puget sound,
there is an ocean smell at low tide,
i saw us standing with our feet in the pacific waters of puget sound,
when i walk with you i soak my soul in your eyes,
no greater fear than having your dreams unnamed,
i will name them and give them life,
breathe air into their lungs,
put feet under their legs,
let feathers grow on their bare arms,
let wings sprout from their stiff backs,
i left my fear on a high cliff, to dry turn into dust,
left for the wind to take it,
wind brings the air and sun carries the light,
where do you warehouse your fright, into what compartment can you arrange regret?
i open my heart and leave the house carrying my own spirit
in my hand,
fingers radiate out like spokes and sparks fly off to ignite the darkness,
call me now and use my real name,
the one i told you about in this poem,
were you paying attention?
what is my name and how will you call me when you need me?/ diego
diego davalos his book of poems "shrinking the monster"
