Born of Love
she died on his birth day.
she set her self down,
with all her rumbling and noise
her desire to be seen,
to be known,
to be loved.
Yes, she needed love, hungered
for his kisses, his touch, his attention.
Sometimes she was starving and he
couldn’t see it. And she wouldn’t say,
she wouldn’t beg for a morsel of his bread.
She was born on that day,
that day that her self died, the day
they celebrated his coming to life.
Her Self was full of pure being and empty
of need. Her Self was love so She
didn’t need love. She was at home
in the silence of darkness and
the magic of light.
It’s in her quiet that you know she left,
just picked up that day and walked away.
And it’s in Her quiet that you know
She is alive because She stands
before you naked.