She bowed her head

turned the temperature down

bellowed underground

her biome of love;

seeking only refuge

shifting her back to the world

she began her winter curl.

Victim of the rape of

wind recklessly undressing her

leaving only a shambles of raggedy red,

she holds her grief like grace,

like power,

like deep underground rage.

She knows ravage,

she knows sky,

she chooses roots.

© 2016, Andrea Mathews


Photo by Carlos Caetano