She lay her troubled breath at the feet of the towering tree
Surrendering to the roots' thirst she releases her tears
Pouring over into the clay she spills her lost hope
letting her bones melt into the cups of mother earth
her flesh becomes dirt
her blood becomes water
her hardened pain becomes crystal
Turning in time all the mothers before her
listen, and let go
an avalanche of old wounds
and as they fell they carved spectacular
sculptures in the mountainside
transforming history into magnificence.
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