were that there is, there is--

a mountain

upon a mountain, upon a

mountain's back.

bowing weightlessly to the

highest tier of purple...

Mahadevi's morning sari

in the solitudes of night.

slipped on from a sleep deep

enough to lull sleep to waking.

locks flowing with arms a

long time come, holiest Mother

where everything registers as

she creates it.

all her watchful eyes prepared to

gouge themselves out, rather than

see harm come to her Heart.

as sindoor

applied throughout

a devi's body...

with one hand growing

out of another.

her fierce vivacity

out-dancing her betrothal

to arising worlds.

wearing blood-light.

this morning

my mother addressed

me by the tenderst

form of my name.

to ask me: where did you

go?

the person she knew...

and yet, and yet.

my response was: you

gave birth to me and you

don't recognize me?

she addressed herself as

a stranger as it's coming to be.

a clear line placed in
an ocean reeled to a shore--
pulp of sands wild with
mountains.

Kunda...the gyrating necks
of underbrush as Ma moves.

mass die off of black birds

freshly fallen into forest fires

that tear off their saffron robes--

~ROAR!!!!!!!~