- Standing in my water grave, my right hand facing heaven;
- My left hand points to tiny waves and holds the wrist that lead in.
- Straddled across time and space, the threshold to me beckons.
- Death to birth and sleep to wake, embracing the rejection.
- Abandoning all vice and crave to welcome an ascension,
- Opening the woollen gate to step toward concession.
- Falling from a token cross and buried in a tomb.
- Resurrected from life lost, birthed from a second womb.
- Former me, with all his flaws, takes with him all that gloom,
- And from the mountain trail withdraws to dissipating doom.
- But newest me with dewey awe in nascent sprouting bloom—
- Water, blood, and spirit crossed for Mother’s gracious boon.
Categories
Womb
