Photo by Frances Gunn via Unsplash


I am glued to the interior
of my thoughts.
                          A shredded
ballerina figurine
             dipped in gold.
Trees, water, sky.
             Autumn. Spring.
Autumn.                       Outside,
reality is thinning.

                          Paper coaster.
Tree sap in a dead limb.

Walking down the street.
                          through time.
A tunnel.
The senses dulled
                          to anything
but fear.
                          All words
             sound like ‘Run.’
Steps over water, along the dock.
under. Viscous,
An eyelid, blinking.

I can blot mountains
with my hand,
                          but not
this sunset. This
             igniting the sky.
The trees split
                          open their heads
to contain the twilight.
A penitent
             wind blows in
an ache for snow.
                          The heat
             A rock in a pond.
                          A shimmer
of tears.

I walk the labyrinth
             into the green
of the forest.                 Blue
             shards of sky
hit the ground at my feet.
Gold filigree
paper wounds.
no beast here.
                          Only the torn
suturing itself
                          into being.

First published in EcoTheo Review, Vol. 3, No 2, Spring 2020

7 thoughts on “Mandala

Add yours

  1. Oh, my heart! So magical, and this line grabs my heart “the gold filigree patches
    paper wounds.” Love you Demeter sister, always


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: