The Occupied Woman

 

Legions live within

      the boundaries

      of her skin.

 

Joined not at the hip but 

breath in breath

they are,

they walk,

they weave.

The Old Ones occupy

her heart

in one blood

the echo chamber of Ancients.

 

Spiders occupy her hair,

their lighted threads

weaving to and fro,

stars to sons.

 

Light occupies her eyes,

Fire is the kindling of her soul,

Roots run through veins

Drumming the lungs of others.

 

Of hoofed feet,

winged arms

poured magic from

pawed hands and

horned tendrils of silk.

The pulsing, poolings of stillness

and

songs of the ancients echoing.

Again.

A thousand souls

A multitude of expressions of one flame 

Inhabit this mosaic,

This occupied woman. 

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