Saliva on Pine

The daffodils are in bloom.
My sinus aches, it never does.

I thought the frequency has changed, now I'm not so sure

And yet,
I am here.

This community of priestesses, lovers, ecstatic beings.
This community of mourning women, queens, wise elders and fools.

We brought down the moon last night in ritual.
Shared our collective dreams into the basket upon waking.

Allah, Allah, allah we chant, because God is oneness and this is the work.
Listen all who wrestle with higher powers, those who try to make distinctions and are afraid.
There is only one God, the God of all creation. All is equal, all is love.

We broke the barriers, shattered walls on our red tapastry. Sufi drummers and dear beloveds.
She asks if she has permission to whirl,
Granted.

So she does.

The room is rising, but we have no walls since they broke them down.
We are weeping tears of joy, grief and praise.

This is the healing.

And as I venture out to the sun I realize I have no words to pray.

So I spit on a pine needle, my hangnails burn.

That's all it is I say to my self, "saliva on pine,"
It never makes sense
Until we breathe together
And there is no difference
Between us.

Shams is the dear friend.
We are the messiah.