To remind you of
the soft explosion
in your chest,
Emptiness invented flowers.
When you gaze into them
you return
to her diamond womb
where orbits sing planets
through the dark
and angels churn
the milky vacuum
into golden butter,
your body...
Now grieve away the
veil
of doubting
and dive naked
into the ocean
of this breath.
Has
She not created
your face
to temper the blinding night
of her counsel?
Why can't you
look into
a deeper self
with the mirror
of compassion?
Inside the absence
of noise
is another kind of silence,
the throb of her fingers
on the lute of your spine,
the tremor of a poem
before its word,
Magdalene stealing barefoot
into your garden
to visit a sepulcher of bones.
Here is where
the dancing will spring up
when April comes.
It is why we have Winter,
why her stillness whets
the blades of inhalation,
cleaving hearts
not in one but
in two
for the sake of love.
Flower by Kristy Thompson
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