Today I lay myself down on the Earth's breast.
I tell her Momma, you have got to breathe for me,
I can no longer breathe for myself.
The effort it takes
to fill my lungs
with air
and force it out
again
to make room for more
is just
too much
today.
She rocks me gently,
shuddering from my sadness,
breezes the hair out of my eyes
so I can see the blindingly blue sky.
She is still
so I can hear
the call of the hawk
soaring
through the trees,
feel the push
of the weeds as they sprout
beneath my back.
The spiders crawl
along my arms
as I lay on my mother's land
Waiting
for a message
from the gods
the goddess
the trees
the clouds
anyone.
