Outside it rained
and prayer flags
flew like magic carpets.
Lighting cracked
the night. We laughed
in silly play, a ritual.
Into my lucky limbs
four friends struck
earth with fists,
lit fire with friction,
spread rivulets of water
through my spine,
threw wind with finger tips
across my plains.
We spun like planets.
Took turns as moons.
I didn’t know my mother
had so many hands.
I didn’t know I was a kid
in need of them.


One Response to “Rite”

  1. Maz says:

    Love this. See my words at:

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