(writing prompt)

she gathers all her plants, cut the vines, the branches and tie them to one another

she carries her connected vines and branches, wrapped around her body, filling two bags and a wagon

she stands before the waters of the atlantic ocean, the tides punching her in icy thrusts

she spreads her connected vines and branches, around her feet and clutches the end in tight fists

she grabs the honey and and spreads it on her earth made rope
she takes the salt and sprinkles it on her earth made rope
she puts her hand between her legs, pulls a handful of blood from her womb, and drips it on her earth made rope

she stands before the waters of the atlantic ocean, the tides punching her in icy thrusts

she watches tides, drown her earth made rope

she holds the rope, as it begins to float up into the eyes of the sun

she feels the earth tremble, as the atlantic part the ocean’s waves

bones rise from the ocean’s floor, rise up along the earth made rope, rise up and into the sun and the moon

she waits

she looks

she waits

she sits in the sand, after the atlantic ocean has settled, after the tides have calmed, after all the bones have all gone

the sun sets and the full moon brightens

bones turned bodies, are delivered from the sun and the moon, to the four corners of the earth and into her

she drops the rope and the atlantic ocean swallows it

“the ancestors have returned”, they say

she smiles again

View story at Medium.com

View story at Medium.com

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