From bones grow thorns
And stems of might pierce tender skin
Fingers pricked so often by the holly
Now branches shelter my tangled heart
Movement seems futile
For where shall I go?
Remembering there is life in still
And below me
Where rivers of blood run through root valleys
Flooding holy lands
Are reached by prayer alone
Unbeknown to me
As I believed my own silence
But circling disbelief is the frailty of breath
Naked yearnings born from womb
And resting upon the riverbank
Where I dreamt my own reflection
Are shards of dust
Stones, once grazing palms
Thrown to disperse clouds in water
Rippling through being
To her I return
As glossy leaves embalm my spine
Shooting up to catch the sun
I am bare
Harvesting berries before they fall
I am the strength of her
And the death of her too
