The murk of the underworld and I lunged my hand down
Saw her faded orange
Skin scarred, bruised
I picked her
That evening magicked words
Into the crypt of her womb
Words that drew into the deep black
Smiling earth-bound flickers
Of the sun’s maternal flesh:
Words & Pictures: © Mazzy Khatun | 2017
She read the book attentively, and so at peace was her heart that it surely must have stilled the unseen forces that made the wooden bench what it was, breathing a sweet smiling silence all around, making listeners out of ivy and holly and the dew orbs that to the red berry was its wide ocean.
Words and Pictures by © Mazzy Khatun | 2017
And last, but in no way least, if I have shown even a morsel of courage to accept the writer that I am today then it is you – only you – who is the reason for my sunburst renewal. Thank you, thank you, thank you my dear friend. Alive again and always yours, M.