She is a black gypsy
her law is love
it is the fruit of her lips
and when she gives
she gives out of her belly
ancient waters – running(s)
of wisdom from purgatory
of lost soul- she loves to find
binding the ashes together
binding the smoke and flame
shadows of all shades
shadows of days – in lonely
shadows of nights – in longing
shadows of scratching and surviving
and when she gives the trees bow at her offerings
the sky breathe(s) – fresh winds in her direction
seedlings jump into germination
conjuring up the power of connection
the power of affection
the power – a simple touch
to heal lost souls like mine

~ Krissy Mosley