Poems bloom on her lips like ancient chrysanthemums
Lightning drips through her fingertips
Like sheets of quivering static electricity.
Her spirit speaks to her in feathery whispers
That she has to freeze time to hear them.
She goes to her bedroom,
And shuts the door
And says goodbye to the world
So she can say hello
To her soul.
She opens secret containers of darkness
And climbs through cracked windows of shattered pasts,
And touches silky emotional flower petals
Of fire-breathing intuition.
Poems swirl around her, a tornado of chaos and beauty
Magic and mystery.
She is a woman---
A curvaceous vessel of life,
A sacred succulent fire-breathing
Marbled, living, breathing masterpiece of spirit.
She inhales pain
And exhales life.
The world rests in her hands
She honors all beings
By releasing her tears
As secret raining blessings.