Ode to Ocotillo

Brilliance in Bloom: Ocotillo flowers

she swallows me, and I am inside of her.

the South,

pathway of the Sun.

red, orange, mauve, taupe, peach, purple, brown

illuminated in morning light glory,

aflame with dipping sun.

her brilliant blooms of coral hues,

limbs streaked with green veins,

her thorns beckon me…

so i may know the sweetness of her sharpness

the fineness of her fierceness.

she brings me down, down, down

to the crook of her seat

that place where her root holds the ground,

I swallow her, and she is inside of me.

she takes hold,

that place in me,

she takes my root

strong

with merciful force.

and Grace.

that place,

numbs, stuck severed,

that goes to sleep when feeling is to much to bear,

my root,

that lost its hold from water…

and so a well of rage pools, and grows,

beneath the surface,

hidden. sleeping.

I swallow her and she is inside of me.

she pricks my flesh,

my blood runs

red. alive.

her thorns live in my veins,

and blood runs down my thighs.

her purple root drives me down, down, down,

to wells of rage

with force.

and mercy.

she holds me firm. won’t let go.

a scream bubbles up.

gurgling first,

then singing, then screaming, then weeping, then sighing…

the rage well sparks a flame

and in time, it feeds something beautiful

like her brilliant red-orange flowers dancing in the sky.