Speaks the tall dance
of the forest, laughs light
as air, whispers rage.

She who was once the sun
now incites seeds, spreads
fires, screams cyclones.

Invisible, she storms free,
her force unbridled now
by any mother’s mercy.

Her eerie songs caress
the counters of the hills,
furrowed like the face

of the old woman she is.
Wrapping herself around
this world and the other,

she shudders, doors open.
A leaf of silver sighs, she
turns her breath on us.