Zep Tepi

(in ancient Egypt, Zep Tepi was the first time)

In the beginning time
            Zep Tepi
the darkness and the light
were the double deep waters
            birth womb
of time
 
 
a disruption of stillness
            breaking the waters
            the parting of the waters
            womb-wet birth
 

of self substance matter moments
the end of chaos
            in the dark womb waters
                        in the dark womb
                                    in the waters
 
 
before the birth
            water breaks
the thighs of the firmament are parted
the pain of emergence begins
            Zep Tepi
 
 
savage are the moments
the first moments
opening the eyes to first light
loss of dark comfort chaos
the pain of order
 
“leave me not to be broken”
 
a baptism of blood
water and blood
lustrations
 
suspended
void
avoid
devoid
 
anger denial despair
bread water
purification
            Zep Tepi
the pure beginning
 
            (renewal
             active/passive
             death)
 
the light of autumn fields
the light of ripening
harvest come home at last
 
last of the warm days
given/received
 
summer gentled by soft light
slanting gold
over fields of
 
of
 
 
light jammed in alleys
slanting over dumpsters and homeless shadows
flicking litter into gutters
and the meaning of life
into streetcorner deals
and violent morality
 
 
once there was a beginning
a wet start
in the morbid ejaculation
and mingling of fluids
in alcoholic haze
 
once there was a meaning
a primordial grasp
of fleeting chaos
 
made flesh made real
made made made
 
matter maddened by blood
and beating hearts
 
beat beating beat
 
the beaten and the tamed
wandering in slant-light alleys
darkening hallways
of houses whose price is not money
 
 
dangling dangerous
on the edge
            edge of existence
one step from the edge
abysmal
abyss
watching the darkness
for any sign of quickening
            any leap of faith
            or falter of meaning
 
“the last parachute
is the one that does not open”
 
“judge me, oh lord, as were judged
my fathers before me”
 
 
look into the eyes
(mirrors of despair)
 
eyes like bowers of roses
scenting the evening
purple light
washing away
the dirt                                   
(sin sign design
sincere single)
(pain of emergence
blood of being)
the slag of existence   
clay of life
in a baptism of beginning
            Zep Tepi
 
the joined bones of the pelvis
hold the waters
            the double deep waters
            the breathing void
the cradle of meaning
water holding the moment
            the first moment
the water from which the world was born

John C. Goodman lived in British Columbia and Ontario before settling in Newfoundland and Labrador . He has published a novel, Talking to Wendigo (Turnstone Press). His stories, poems and essays have appeared in The Fiddlehead; Otoliths; elimae; Zygote in My Coffee and other magazines in Canada and the US. He is the editor of ditch, an online poetry magazine and editor of Trainwreck Press.