Mugwort

When the fresh air and open sky scares you, tears you up, a little, tears you open- there are no words, but who needs them? I will never tell you how I feel. There is aloe growing in the backyard. There are vultures circling above, so there you go- you won't be wasted if you lay down and bleed out into the earth's open eyes. Let her decide, let her see you this vulnerable, let anyone. There is infinite space and even more living beings flying around in every breath, crawling through the dirt, landing on your skin. The bees buzz childhood through the broccoli gone to seed. There are oranges and avocados falling fresh from the trees. There is a girl named Willow on a bike who says do you smell the sweet grass? There is a boy who brings you lupine and sunflowers on your first night. There is sex, it is slow, and then sleep like death, that is, peace, and every time you resurrect, you hear wind rustling the leaves outside and the rat in the wall makes a place for her babies and the boy rubs your back to let you know he is with you. You walk out into the dark to piss in the dirt and above the shed there are two raccoons two feet above your head watching you through black masks and the moment of seeing, the darshan, is so intense, the connection, it's like suddenly you aren't split open, you are hummingbird sage, you are safe. To the pure all things are pure and it is so good to be good, this seeing, their eyes, their no eyes- it's like falling in love and out again at once and everything intense and beautiful and cruel that could have happened didn't, or did in a heartbeat too quick to be counted, and the fearless, living stares aren't human. They don't concede. They don't insult. They don't stop until you all part ways- they crawl to the compost pile for food, you walk out under the moon for a drink of light and it's just you and your lifetime. You are just rootless or maybe growing in water, lotus body, grabbing for mud and sky at once and yes, beautiful girl, God loves you, the Calendula told you so, the medicinal good mornings, the naked bodies, the dirt road, the air, the claws that tear, tear, and eat up flesh and blood and bone with only the best, most natural intentions. It's only a day. It's good- this tea

traditionally

used

for dreaming.