Poetry

Serpent Mother, keeper of the vine, I, a heart wrapped in the thorns of fear, Have walked the shadowed path of trembling, Where scales and slithers bring the vertigo of old.
Yet in the jungle's dream, beneath the vine’s embrace, Your radiant coils of green and gold arise— Milky Way, you shimmer through the cosmos, A winding river through the canopy of stars.
Eyes like embers, soft with ancient wisdom, You guard the gates where heaven meets the earth, Where the Huaorani whisper to the skies, And roots hold secrets of eternal birth.
I feared your shape, the arching of your spine, But here, within the gahpi-ghori glow, Your colors pulse, a rainbow in the dark, Shedding skin, the sacred art of letting go.
Endless motion, coil of time and change, You guide me through the hushed, translucent veil— A dance where I become the river stone, The leaf, the dew, the serpent, and the trail.