She raises weary hands high,

knowing that if she aims for

heaven, she just might touch God.

.

Tendons stretch beyond breaking

point, in the places  where pain

collides with grace; she feels buds

.

Tear and in the ripping, birth

laughs at the Fall, defies this

gravitational downward

.

Spiral, dictatorial

dead-weight. Thirsty soul seeks sun

and in the breaking place, blooms.