Darwin's Daughter

 

 "In Bahia, Brazil, April 1832. Sublime devotion the prevalent feeling...
Twiners entwining twiners. Tresses like hair. Beautiful Lepidoptera.
Silence. Hosanna!"  ~Charles Darwin, Journals

You, my dear, are not a secret.
Don't wait to be discovered.
God has already discovered you
and shouted the name of your heart
to all the planets and stars, crying,
"Look what I did not make,
so that she could make herself!"
Your light isn't sealed in a case of humility,
a gesture of religion, or an asana
slathered in scented yoga gel.
You are not the pixelated image
of virtue on a glossy webpage.
You are your body, entwining
a riot of fungi and archaea,
thirty nine trillion microbes
gathered like filings to the magnet
of your countenance.
In imitation of your joy,
earth is dancing.
In imitation of your sorrow,
earth is weeping.
Green nipples quiver out of loam
at the faintest thunder of your
aimless barefoot wandering.
Birds sing, not to wake you up,
but because you are awake.
Why don't you slip out of
all seven veils into something
more comfortable?
The dark original nakedness
whose splendor makes
creation tremble.

Image: Eve Naming the Birds, by William Blake