She sits rather still, stitching her loom
shackled and bound to the whispering room
While the walls shutter speeches
she slouches then reaches,
her stitching resumed.

Threads of silk pool in spools
cast to the floor
Hushing the voices
as they pour

the voices repeat their crippling phrase
dancing the space
bound to their maze

I took the seeds from an unknown
to plant one day, near the lake
And now they sit in the darkness
of my jewelry box
worthy of more

I take the seeds and follow gravity's pull
to the shore
Birds and insects moan
as the sun sets into the acid black
Colors entwined with the moon
burn in pink fury

I wait twelve minutes for the sunlight to disappear
the curve of the moon's crescent glowing
Heavy perfumed winds tickle
my naked arms are prey to the icy spring chill

In the dark I bury my old dried seeds
deep in the soils of earth
I chant a timid song to the moon.
surrounded by magic patterns

I spell the seeds to mingle
root in oblivion, rolled in earth
I give them hope, a potent magic
and perhaps, they will grow
into something more.

Either ends of a tunnel
Look like light