Earth breathes beneath us
and does not sleep.
Listen to dreams and stillness.
Those red spiky globules have no place in our bodies.
Imagine them flying from us limp-armed with sour grapes,
“Damn lady you run on caffeine and anxiety anyway.
I don’t want anything here.”
Heat water and lemon, sip and purify.
Imagine glowing white orbs.
Remember how rose quartz
fits into fist and heart.
Hold it over blistered knuckles.
(Somewhere a cherry blossom tree stands in a courtyard
alone like haiku of ten blossoms divided by seven branches.)
The earth heals in pause.
And so will we.
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