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~

I found a cactus.
While walking on my grandma’s land, After a storm

Broken offshoots from the mother plant, lay alone on rocky soil.

My grandma, inside sleeping. Her breath,
waning in human form.

I wanted her to grow.
Where I live now.
Above city streets, sirens and noise,

Could she take root, In foreign soil?
No longer attached to the source, could she bloom?

My bones knew Yes
Because her bones are my bones.

The Mother plant,
who never met a stranger,
But saw into each soul.
Someone’s daughter, Someone’s son.

She taught me to listen,
because birds and children are prophets,
for those crazy enough to believe,
In Magic.

beyond certainty
where rainbows are found
because the sky still shines through darkness.

the Moons Mystery, will always choke on rightness, On words.

My grandma,
the Mother plant,
showed me,

Hummingbirds have something to say,
Because when you feed them
they come
in swarms
their wings screaming stories
we’ve searched our lives to know

You are not alone.
You belong.
You matter.
You are safe.

Look up.
The stars are still there,
sheltering
The symphony of frogs in a small pond

Off the map
On a piece of land, in Tarpley

Where the Mother Plant
Takes root, year after year,

In all courageous enough to RE-Member.

~

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