Excavations

The Bind of Flow

It is the darkest blindfold
that covers the eyes of my sight.
Only in the darkest night
do I guide my steps inch by inch,
tracing the cold wet paths
of an underground stream.

Spiraling towards the navel-center
(my sex bound in umbilicus)
touched by unseen hands, I am swept away
on tides of night
in a cradle of ecstasy

I am a silent goddess

Lost in this I cry out
to drown on gasping my first cold air,
to not recognize the strong hands
that have pulled me forth here
and baptized me in pomegranate tattoos