A berry ripened on the vine.

Raised by failing sunlight,

Awaiting death and rebirth.

We descend into the belly

And in the lowest moments

Come out into dung upon the ground.

Our bottom is our salvation.

The knowledge is our survival.

We look up for the stars that made us.

We dwell in caves of excrement,

Hoping for the water to bury us.

White lights and lies are forgotten;

Only the terminal truth remains.

Yet we regrow and become wiser,

New vines and leaves arise,

And the flowers and berries

Come forth with new life.


© 2017 Valerie Hathaway

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