The Seeker


A walnut cracks open into halves

by air or strength we do not know

but it’s happened: corpus



And the child looks for her own

mother in a field of snow.

Far away, a woman’s body –  

the size of a thumb.


Who will greet her when

the field returns to a lake?

Her own Self in the water’s motion –

an old dance of Sah and Hum.


The rose folds the bee

into her intoxicating flesh,

the bee now the bud’s



Photo by Joanna Kosinska on Unsplash