She is Calling

Our mammas shape-shift into Mother Earth and she will hold us.

Mortal mammas preach concern of covering and concealing and revealing only what

someone’s god allows because you can’t go out neckee in times like these.

Mamma, what if naked is the only way to be:

shed skin to bear vulnerability.

L’habit ne fait pas le moine;

There is so much more to bare skin

than animal magnetism.

It is a being freed from the constraints

of a damned society,

embracing true humanity. But insecurity causes heart spaces to hang low with the weight of a stone cloak like

a bumblebee drifting petal to petal.

He who pays dues through false compassion does not reap Earth’s rewards. Those who rise high in pride will reach up and feel dirt on their fingertips. The methods above call open the expansion of a limited mind. But sweet tasting tears, the aroma of empathy, and monumental voices

will erode the stone sitting in our chests. Rachel Carson and those who have fallen only to rise ring their voices across

the Seven Wonders and into our ears. Their voices carry for generations, floating along the river of time.

Do not fear for I hear you; Belle hears the ringing and hopes to echo it too.

Please, teach me how to be the woman I shiver to be.

I call to the Universe and she answers:

Morning blushed as wind and our

voices spread her clouds apart,

begging me to open myself up

as the sky does.

The rebel bodies of Spirits who’ve shed

their shells whisper only to keep us

awake: do not give in to sleep with the

earth in need of a revolution.

What does revolution taste like?

There’s perfumed blood in our mouths,

it's maddening,

and we cannot identify the host.

We can only hope to open our sorrowful mouths to the sky’s mourning

and wash the blood by humanity’s tears.

Morning rests.

Nature reaches up to take my hand,

I grasp at her soft sunlight now falling

into dusk.

Tomorrow’s morning will hold

this same breath, my humanity will decide on a better

intent. One that glorifies the earth we

inhabit. Allow me to strip into an essence

of being that transcends beyond my shell.

But in the morning I cover myself with my own dark clouds parading as protection,

and in that act of choosing

comfort over vulnerability,

stagnancy over change,

safety above morality,

the sky wept for me.