Your roots within me

These mountains were calling me
before I ever knew their name.

I sat with my sister in the moonlight,
body a-buzz with herb and wine,
unfolding the breath from deep
within our bellies, like origami butterflies.

I felt wisps of spiderweb entangle me,
my bare feet on the earth, high hopes
mingling with the intentions of the angels.

We felt it then.

Dangling our limbs
over the precipice of What Is,
the backwards ripples of
reality tickling our toes,
nibbling away inhibitions.

Sister, you taught me then
how to commune
with the elder trees, with the
forest fairies.

When to dance
and drink blueberry wine,
when to pray and when
to surrender
our expectations of the future.

I felt these mountains, then,
moving me,

and the growing pains
of continental shift,
bodies drifting in
melding harmonies.

Sister, still we meet in dreams.
Weaving the web embedded
in our fingers like muscle memory.

And while we sit surrounded
by separate mountains,
I feel your roots within me.





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