Muladhara

It’s deep in the bone,
And coming back.
The root on the mend –
Send it everything you’ve got.

It is not time, yet –
To stand,
To walk,
To fly.

First, sit.
Breathe.
Dig it deep and
Bring the blood back to it.

Open the bowl of your hip
And remember how
To replace
Rusted nails.

Now, pour in redwine,
And see where it leaks.
Mend it with acorn paste
And cardinal calls.

Light a flame
To burn off the decay,
Add salt and sage
To open the wind door.

Scrub it down
With madder-dyed wool
From the down-heavy sheep.
Turn off the alarms now.

See the stoneware bowl,
Finger painted,
Full of beets and cherries,
Warmed by the sun –

Clay bricks
Stacked in a terrace
To hold black dirt
And the crawlers who nourish it –

Rose petals,
Poppies
And a snake
To encircle –

A resonant nest
Filled with the noise
Of one hundred bees
And gravel footsteps.

Make it solid and strong,
But not still –
It will be something
To build upon.

Shared with the dVerse Pub Poets for OpenLinkNight. Pass that bottle, friend. And cheers!

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