easter.
Home, at the christian church,
swarmed by birdhouse echos,
all god’s fallen angels,
gather together here:
Duende comes from the
Mother
Feeling and crying in your own mother’s tears
Not weighed down by joy
Or sadness
The full-spirited letting go, a movement in
Jupiter’s Jazz
Acknowledging, your birth
The spray bottle births &
Your death
Your death, in that moment,
sitting perfectly
perfectly
still. Her unborn life, inside the womb,
so perfectly
perfectly tender.
“O, Death, where is your sting?
O, Hades, where is your power?”
as
All god’s fallen angels
Return to the cult of the living.