She is Manna

Santa Monica, California

Let her go
She can no longer serve you

She is budding with energy
Her fountain,
hydrating your cells
like the patter of rain
in a node of emergence
her dance is infectious

Manna creatures
feeding cold water
to desert snakes
out of hands worn
and scarred
from wounds of bites
and the beating servitude of life

She gives
and like a hidden creature of wisdom
masked by her grace and fragile skin
She knows
She is the gift
in the throbbing bellows of earth's moan
She is nature's heart

She beats for what is good
Her body refuses to stop
Nature's hidden heroin
aches
as her loins endure hell

She is the fountain of life
She is made to tear and bleed
In the production of an innocent beating heart
She is the ocean, giving wave to creation.

She has fed you from her own body
Her own two hands
have nourished the soil beneath your feet
they have massaged hearts coiled in thorns
unraveling every scarring needle
relieving your bleeding wounds
far too long.

Her fingertips, calloused and bruised
brace the river of life
circles shape, cold water feeds, baptism felt.
The water envelops her soul
enriching the garden she hosts

She is manna
she is life
She is nourishing.

But her well is empty
And her heavy petals scream to the morning sky
Bring rain
And feed me once again.
Bring Sun
Shine light on my barren skin.
Bring wind
And enliven the spirit within.