Winter Solstice

I am indeed human.
Tonight I dwell in deep poverty.
Who knows if I will inherit
the gold that is on fire
in the ore of my chest?

Human indeed, sustained
by perpetual loss.
Tonight who knows if
I will taste wealth overflowing
from a single breath?

I am human. I blossom
precariously on broken stems,
thirsting for sweetness,
rooted in the dark.
Who knows if I will ever drink
the healing sap
from my own hollow seed?

Human indeed, suckling
an abysmal sorrow.
Who will share the breast milk
of my emptiness?
This wound does not close.
It is the eye of wisdom,
a human gash.

Who knows if, tonight,
I may finally embrace
the fierce beauty of my own
beaten heart?

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