The Living Girl
written by: J.Ahlberg
Paradise lies at the feet of your mother
It lowers itself to the sole of another,
It springs with the sweat beneath the toes
It roots at the base, then grows and grows.
The earth it moves in both your eyes
With fruits and trees that span the sky,
There is no sin; there is no shame
There is no obligation to claim.
So soft and wise you are little mother
So often the heavens sing heavenly of her,
Named for the mother of those who believe
Our better selves you did conceive.
Your wisdom washes ancestry sins
Releases our once clipped burdened wings,
We wrap your womb around ourselves
And birth the best from our worst selves.
You embalmed that death be brought to life
You calmed the breath and fought all strife,
Dark-bulb – light-bulb; bright and dim
Incantation of a human hymn,
a human hymn, a human hymn.
Paradise lies at the feet of your mother,
and then little mother, little mother, little mother…
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