She was the first altar I laid my eyes on,

Timid to touch.

I first brought her water,

then a rose from my rose bush

I grew hyacinth just to share it with her when it bloomed,

then I walked to find strawberries to prepare her womb.

I learned how to care for bees

to cover her in fresh honey.

Bought some land, planted sweetgrass and cattail to make a basket for money.

I learned to breathe with the wind so I could sit with her longer,

the longer I stayed still, the more I could feel just how much I could offer.

 

I would stand in the doorway,

still timid to touch.

Gifted my jewelry to her,

and another rose from the rose bush.

Traveled to Brazil,

made a trade for smoky quartz.

I was gifted palo santo from the Amazon,

then I made the trek back to the hood.

Placed a lighter under the palo santo,

smokey quartz in a bowl,

sliced a mango and brought more water,

then told her the stories of the road.

I talked to her for a couple hours,

before I slipped into rest,

when I woke up, I preheated the oven to make her fresh brioche bread.

 

It was bliss,

but still, I was timid to touch,

gave her my shirt and my shoes,

and a rose from the rose bush,

I built a house by the beach and

talked to the ocean about her.

Told the ocean they’d like each other

and the ocean waves seemed to get louder,

I received the violence with awareness,

nature has a different way of speech.

I brought her sand from the beach and

told her the ocean would like to meet.