by Jennifer Platt-Walter
This land is a Bible you can read
with every sense. Even when all the time
is washed from my days, I hope to find myself
garmented in light, shaping myself to the valleys,
hills and streams of my homeland, tending to
whatever my consciousness is – Dark matter’s song?
Quantum tongues? The webbed mind of my microbiome?
Whatever remains of me will be embodied as part
of the indefinable Holy Book of Earth
and all is loving grace; all was,
all along.
