Holly

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