My womb, your womb is a holy thing
A chalice
Full of sacred seed
From which all humanly things descend
My womb, your womb a mountain under which you breath
The drumming of my heart in my womb for you
Bared down x 5 or more
Spark of a flame and then a fire
Caliente
Humido
My womb a cave of colliding stars
Pulsating echoes in their wake
My womb, your womb timeless
Vastly other spaces, places
My womb that lays beneath my heavy belly
Drags with moon time
once more, once more, once more, once more
Dark cherry red
Offering to the garden
My womb, your womb conspire to renew this earth
My womb you worship with hands on skin
My womb that communes with wisdom
Calls me home
Amen to my womb, your womb with cuts and scars and burns
Babies ripped
Heart ripping of babies less
My womb, your womb is a holy grail with liquid seed to drink
A creative cauldron
A furnace of the bringing forth of things
Beautiful things
Spectacular things
Honest things
Things that cannot be defined or denied
My womb, your womb, cannot be denied these holy things
Creative surges and steeps
Deep descent
Future hallucinations
A divine portal
A place
A space full of emptying and everything
My womb is a holy thing
A holy thing.
– Lotus Kruse
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