Goddess

On my back, legs spread,
I too conceive
ragweed out of clay soil,
milkweed and thistle.

The rain is my command.
Call me a vessel,
consider me a void
to be filled.

Let rain rain down and trickle,
fog descend
in clouds
on misty mornings.

I am blessed
and have no will beyond
the need to rest
and feed the growth
that’s coming.

I am life
and also death in trust.
The life I bring
encased in flesh
is precious.

Deep inside

there lurks a self

that hides,

but has the gift,

to grow,

and, finally at last, to flower,

so become

a self-contending power

beneath the sun.