Goddess, are you out there?
Can you hear my pleas?
For love, relief, kindness?

I can just see the hem of your grey broomstick skirt,
Feel the molten relief of your core.

Are you the earth?
The soft, grounded body of my dear Meg?
Could it be possible, even, that you’re here with me now?
Part of me?
Inseparable?
As I sit here trembling with fear.
After a night of waking and rising heat and dampness and shitty dreams?

I am of you.
You are with me always.
Could it be possible?

How is there so much redemption and relief,
And so much terror and isolation?

The world doesn’t feel like it goes together.

And yet, the trees still stand.
The tea still steams.

I still breathe.
Right along with you.