Time had placed itself in her womb
She knew this through a dream that made her a song
A song that travelled between the past and future of
womanhood
With each day a spiral formed on her belly
Perfect circles that mapped an ancient language of lost suns
She would hear love songs that rose up from ashes, from
stones, from her ancestors
They were gifts
They would heal time, they would love her when she grew
tired
They held her like a cloak of stars
She felt her milk full with songs of creation, with timeless
essence
Every spiral was guided by her soul as unforgotten desires
to find love within
Her skin was made into a million midnights, dipped in oak honey
to make her glisten like moonlight
The spirals would glow at the touch of the sun’s rays
Her belly would rhythm odd dances and mimic heartbeats
Each day a song grew that she would sing with conviction of
raising the dead
Of being a lover, a beam of radiance, a tunnel through which
life was a means to itself
She was singing her life
Being made again, as time
