Trophies

TROPHIES

i confront my demon,

placing my fingertips on the ground.

i say, "i see you, Mara.

my rightful place is here-- in Life."

i love him, bow to him, thank him

for teaching me, giving me

the opportunity to learn, to grow, and evolve

through my suffering.

I bless my demon and send him on his way

and he disar-tic-tic-tic-ulates,

unfolds and unravels,

re-artic-tic-tic-tic-ulating, ticcing,

unfolding, flapping

and snapping his hidden wings

at right angles and flat planes,

calibrating perfect mudras

and whispered Lovesongs

into this poor sodden clay,

forming masterpieces of oak and orchid

and trophies of poppies and peonies

for Mother's earthly mantle.