Poem – “Last Dreamtime”

Last Dreamtime

Sap of blood spun from your branches,
Mother of the vanishing dreamers,
Take me far from here where I shall suffer forever
Mother of the fluid blossom, take me home
I know there are no sacred houses in your hour
And I will be safe from the human judgment
Mother of delusion, there is no organic pain with you
Never more shall I feel my intestine, slowly dying
Struggling to be free from a body of anxiety

©S. M. Shuford 2018
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