PRITHVI

What is essential.
What is true, at the root.
This is my holdfast— this is my temple—
This is the place I hear your name—                my own.

This is the blood & the bone & the OM—
The old stones,
The forgotten word.
The cache of old shells, smudged with smoke.
This is where I knew you were coming—             bright & new.

What is true, at the root.
Your name. This Earth.
The old stones of this practice upturned.