Volcanic.

I know you want me to say “mni7a”,
but today, ana mish mni7a.
Ana volcanic.
Ana ktir volcanic.

My mighty forceful freedom flowed
through fertile valley, lush life abundant,
powered by euthymic eudaimonia

a tribute to the mother of mothers,
Mother Nature, nurturing the wild with
the wholeness of wisdom, swallowing whole
everything that is, for everything to come.

And so I swallowed my days whole,
feeding life with life (death is but a detour),
so that, as Mother showed me, all would thrive.

In the fertile valley where life feeds life,
Where the raging flow of freedom feeds
the soil, the grass, the birds, the trees,
disruptions stronger than death are rife –

and their force, too, was made in Mother’s image.

A mountain sits atop the force of my disrupted flow
Formidable weight contains the gurgling red hot urge to blow

Will the mountain hold steady
as it has done for years already

Or will the force beneath the surface break through and join the force above,
swallow mountain and valley whole in a fiery consummation of Mother’s love?

The detour is the path to what comes next.