Her voice

This piece was written swiftly in a strange moment, when I was feeling both anger and deep love. I think the anger opened the door for Love, for Her.

Silence. For aeons.
Then a voice unfurls

Spiked like a dandelion
Unwelcome, considered a weed.
Dark green with minerals
Shocking yellow flowers.

Pelargonium high on mountainside
forged by wind and sun
Fragrance of the Magdala
A coronation of stars

You are a garden enclosed my sister my bride
a spring enclosed, a fountain sealed

Rose heart of the mother
giving perfume intimately
Red-black galaxy
of courage

This voice is her own.
Unrecognised, in love
The mystery and abandonment
of the garden.

Julia Casciola ©