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Onions

And I’m okay with heartbreak, with the breaking-open. I am salt, all salt and water. I am all shades of pink, tender. I am multi. I see the holograms of things. The armor has shown itself, its locus on my cervix, masquerading as “abnormal” cells. What if it’s completely normal to my being-body to manifest these cells, this site of healing, transformation. My body-being is moving through its processes perfectly–nothing is static. I am exchanging atoms with all of you, right now. My cervix is healing, lush, and lovely.

I am dropping the armor.

Autumn is coming and I will cradle all the onions in my arms, little flecks of brown dirt earth, papery skins, all the eye-burners. I am full and curled like a cat. I am ready for more pain. Joy. To embrace and be this:

LIFE. 

It is slipping away, the earth one. Sitting with Death at the table, meal after meal.

 

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Poet and Tarot Reader, specializing in Water Cartography
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