This body is a landscape, life wants to inhabit every inch of. Surrender to the seasons that claim her, the sweet death and glorious birth, every time, she is brought back home, to the stillness of her form. The black hole in which she rests, the unseen forces that she offers her trust.
A tornado tears through this land, all life, flattened to the ground. This body has cried and parts seem like they have been torn out, cut from life, left to wither and die.
And then the violence subsides, to be filled with deafening silence. Broken by the call of a bird, the promise of newness, and life, again, begins to push its way through. A paradise awoken to reclaim the desolate wasteland. The signs of a cycle beginning again.
Like the tallest tree of these lands, this body stands. Gnarled roots excavate deep to nourish tender fruits. Branches open to the light, hold only trust in their cellular imprint. In the depth of the night, a pillar of strength holds strong, holds tight. A forest of trees, sway in the same breeze, a symphony of breath, in service to all of life.
Deep into the earth, this body falls into rhythm with universal existence. Her womb holds mine, eternal space, spirals of time. This blood, it is binding, we are of all colours, yet one and the same.