Dirty girl, she can be That,
soiled with guilt and shame.
It’s the name impressed
on the healing game.
Yes, they’re spinning webs
in tight, invisible rows
of power-blessed agenda
without mission, cause
or wisdom,
they tie the knots.
So throw on the dirt,
here, where hearts open
in the womb of earth
each grain atomically near,
unconditioned, always free
of the contracts
of this pitiful fantasy.
She will not falter,
this child of light
playful in god’s creation.
Seeing you outside-in
She laughs in the face,
alchemy of freedom
again and again
turning dust to gold.
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