Self-Portrait as Garden
by Katelyn Rivas
In my hair, the fruit from yesterday’s seed, I have never felt this way before, both born
Eternal golden globes in harvest & won but not in the way that someone dies.
Because of her bravery, There is a story of buried, stone fruit, glory
I can feast on the juice within me & it was in season, purple flesh,
Somewhere there is a garden for the remedy to pain. Your mother planted
During this whole life, as I dug deep inside you for a reason. & you almost found her.
To reach the green thing in the winter, offer the blessing of water.
That fires up wild palms in the desert when days grow long, you can stretch roots
Into darkness, the mystic black within you, and thrust the fruit into light, bathe in it over & over
again.
AMEN.
