In the bedrock of soft ooze
sprout the rods and cones of a ladder to Jacob’s dream
spruced upwards
gazing inwards
the hallucination of a dream left behind for too long
the yearning of a sunken volcano
a sisterhood of souls abandoned
yearning for the connection
sailing towards the energetics of a wise and warm embrace.
I am told humanity has folded its legs
tucked its head
and wound itself into the embrace of a temporary womb.
the pine cone falls from a lofty place
dropping swirling shedding
layers of forgotten dreams
shattering the brutal murder from the shards of history’s mind wipe
she lies in a tomb shrouded in moss and cobwebs
vines entangle the stone, hair, bone, twig, and flower
enwised
a new being unfolds
tentatively stretches a sticky limb
through a film once designed to hold and protect
she is reborn
looking inward
to revise the heart of humanity
Intuitive botany 