Words by Lucia Lane
The earth cradles me
still feeling blood, still feeling breaking
I let it lead the way
I can hear it’s breathing now
I don’t mind dirt on my skin now
the hum of electricity doesn’t bother me anymore
someone is playing the harp
I am gently carried from the floor
there is a mug, something warm
gathered around open flame
she’s asking me to dance
and little things look beautiful again
I give thanks to the blade that tore me open
making room for something softer to form.
