Stalk

She comes forth
Out of the dark
No mystery but grace
A tedious mother
Tends to her charge of mothers and fathers
Her slow technology
Feeds the child
Again and again
Her heart, its champion
N’importe quelle champs

From her cove of grace
They all grow
Root and wheel
The flow of life sometimes
Drips and boils
Sometimes pours and pushes
The tide is always high
Strength of the sea, weight of the air
Both hope and light

I am the Lord’s handmaiden,
She said