The defining Moments,
In these Details,
That are crafted every so gently,
God’s hand,
Spilling over into Perfection,
Every Moment,
Willed,
And here I am,
Doubting,
these anxious feelings,
scrambling eggs across my Chest and Neck,
Mouth,
Choking,
On my Own Breath,
Being Suffocated in my Own Mind,
Dancing, and Battling
in the Thoughts,
Wondering where God is?
Thinking, trying to Resolve,
As if He wasn’t Here >
So I go to the Garden.
the Garden that is my Mind,
a Place I go to return to,
This Home,
These Walls I’m building,
Made of Mudd, and Stones,
Made of the fire that has burnt,
that has scolded,
that has set a light a deeper hurt,
a Fire,
to anguish the pain,
to set it free.
To help burn out the deeper cuts,
The wound inside the wound,
The Red and Purple Flesh,
Pomegranates warming up,
Cooking under the Heat,
Pan red, Raw,
The Wound bubbling out the Yellow Pus,
The Poison,
that which needs to be Purged out,
Thrown uP,
In all the Ways,
The Fire,
Sending Flames into the Pain,
To turn to Ash,
All that Needs to Die,
To Burn,
Forced.
Chosen>
I tend to this Body of Mine,
This Garden.
the Temple of Temples,
My Gardens,
I water my Flowers,
Check the Sun, is still Burning,
Are there Stars in the Night Sky?
The Night Sky, present,
Present,
Present, Heavy, Taking up Space,
The Whole Sky,
Vast, littered in Stars that merge with the Moon,
Not hidden from plain Sight,
I check AGAIN,
if the Sun is still there,
For So Long I’ve not lived without it,
The thing which was Missing,
My Life Source,
The Melanin,
This Coconut Amaranth golden Skin of Mine,
This Molten Lava of Honey,
Running, Pouring off my fingers,
off my fingertips,
Dripping like Riches across my Nails,
Arms radiating blood – orange, till my elbows,
The smell of Mendhi fills the Room,
Designed upon Body,
Tattoos to decorate,
This Celebration,
This Art,.
My Flowers, and Water,
The Soil and the Sun,
The Heat, and its humidity,
Perfect,
Slow,
The Skylight.
I check Again,
Tend to my Garden,
My Flowers,
Make sure there is Movement in its Waters,
The Water likes to be Moved,
She likes to Shift,
Be Observed,
Tended to ,
For Roots Grow Here,
Not just the Soil,
but her Waters Tell Truths,
Tell Secrets only fairytales,
Could Write,
What you think the Waters are Dead?
The Waters,
Our Mother,
The Roots,
Stretching, Grounding me into the Ether,
I am Grounded,
Airy,