The Tapestry of Skin

I sit on this solstice eve

Remembering the time when

Creeping tendrils fell from my hand,

Tying me tightly and as still as stone.

That is when I lost the egg I was holding

And the life that it held

For the life was tainted and rotten.

The rain still falls heavily on my head.

Submerging me in cold murky water that leaves

Mud trails down my legs.

The moss still dies in the moisture

And the lichen, it still crumbles

But the dust that collects at my toes

Protects my connection with the earth,

With myself.

For there was a time and will still be times

When I cannot hear the quietude, the whispers

Of love and peace.

And I try to cease the harm to my spirit

Tracing the dried blood trails down

Her ethereal thighs.

Her eyes, though heavy, still stop the see the sublime

In the honesty of every story. That I praise.

I'll happily allow the hummingbirds

To sip the nectar from my eyes

Suckling the syrup of my precious vision,

To bind.

And give freely of my soul to the songbirds

Spinning the silks

To sew

Into the tapestry of my

Skin.

For me to walk upon.

For you to walk upon.

I was shocked when, one day I picked up a wasps nest

At just how fragile and delicate it was

Less then paper thin. A home of crushable walls.

A creature feared but courageous I say

beneath the black and yellow.

I shall battle fearlessly once again

Thanking myself daily for all I have.

And in doing so

I dedicate my life to each of you

In devotion and deep gratitude for

all you have given me.

And as I look up towards boundless skies

I know I will soar with the red kites that

Fly high above my mothers house.

Landing only to share experience 

And to hear the sweet sounds of stories.