I BLESSED THE SUN - poetic musings of a black queer

iii. ROOTS

roots

you have made a home in my head,
deeply rooted around the cord of my spine
like a snake to its prey —
where no beginning or end exists between our planes.

I hear the voices in your mind echo,
a sound in the narrow canyons of your thoughts
that seem to whisper, "give in,"
as roots spread beneath the layers of your skin.

they twist themselves around my ribs
with the kind of pain that simulates pleasure,
like how fingers dig into erogenous flesh
to move the seed that's been threshed.

roots infuse with the veins of your heart,
circulating nourishment to your empty soul —
flushing away the misery of drought and calamity
in an effort to make room for divine sanity.

we lay bare while we become one with the soil,
fertile with the magic of those that came before,
as songs of heavenly birds sing of catharsis,
a new light is born in our darkness.

// R. M