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Her

Connor, Coquohalla

When she was entrapped within our eye,
Upon the mountain where eagles fly,
Blasted berry,
Tainted toad,
These were the gifts that we bestowed.
Twisted spine,
Cracked toes.

How could she forgive?
Rampage,
Rape,
And yet,
Resilience in the face.
What forgiveness could she take?

When we tattooed her breast,
Bulldozed what was left.
What spite,
What shame,
What Sunless night,
And Moonless day.

When does our sorry hold no meaning?
When her soul lay beaten,
Under which rocks hold the answer,
Of what I or we could ever offer.

My hands,
My feet
My eyes,
Perhaps even,
My teeth?

These trinkets are all that I carry,
Could these be enough?
For amnesty?

To offer ears to her chest,
To hear her cold breath.
To offer eyes to her trees,
To ensure the fire is not wild,
But calm and free.
To give back what I took.

When her sun tingles upon me,
When her leaves sing down to me,
Her oceans call me,
I will take eucharist with her.
Not in the dark,
Where she cannot reach.

Peppermint eucalyptus,
And Old man's beard,

I will help heal her.
In hopes that she will heal me.