Sear your wounds With underwater flame And sacred sorrows. There is hurt in your eyes, And a bitter heart moored In the leaves of your open Veins. A girl of salt will bring A cup of tears To wash your broken feet. They are burnt tears, The girl a ******, And youngest of sisters three. In her silver mirror you will See the reflection of a tortured face. She will place her hands Tightly over your eyes And her palms will bring The night like black sunflowers. While death meditates You will have perfect dreams Of faces rife with compassion; And centuries will pass Under the mirrored water. When you awake You will possess great power; And it will free you like an Arrow to its ark. The heart's sharp pain Will release you and you will Go forward into the dawn Like wildflowers exploding On their stems.