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.