Winding down a path unknown
With souls entwined together
Staying in the dark recesses of the
underworld, waiting patiently
Until that which has been forgotten
Can be remembered
And once remembered, can be healed.
The marrow of who I am
is a tree struck by lightning
of anger and sadness, shattering
heartwood upon the earth.
The marrow of who I am
is made by the only Mother
who stands simply at each and every door,
listening to love's undying cry
melt into her very heart.
The marrow of who I am
is always creating new blood,
a life innocent to this world,
safe in the mystery of forgivenesses home.