The bent legs
carelessly dangling out of the chair
as the ants come
whom she welcomes with open arms
Her voice would shake
and choke up
passionately when debating
the stubborn and beastly injustice
How her freckles
were spackled onto her nose
from hours spent
chasing the endless sun
Criss cross applesauce
spilt onto the lush grass
limbs bent at unattractive angles
a book filled with ambrosian letters
precariously teetering
the tightrope of her kneecap
Makeup and artificiality
was foreign to her,
alien intruders,
the only known home
provided by the trees and birds
sheltered by the blithely positioned cloud
And the Spirit,
the Spirit that yearns to join the ladybug
dive deep deep deep
into the clear chalice of water
accompanied by airy eagles
To run until her chest aches
capacious lungs gasping
Along with the Soul
the Soul that clings to those she loves
cries over the blissfulness of the dove
is sickened by the smell of new leather
and patiently listens to the water in the drain

all of these make the divine feminine.