In the pathless way
the sign of progress
is that you're not as perfect
as you were yesterday.
Make a sacrament
of every broken vow
and turn your wounds
into mouths that sing.
Are you not most full
where you are most hollow?
This smouldering
is unfathomably gentle,
yet it burns away your
strategies of self-protection.
Use the pollen love makes
out of scorched armor
to heal the smallest creature
curled beside you,
or the unborn
Renew the ocean, forest, sky.
Love is local,
but its breath
sweeps the stars.

Collage by Rashani Réa