Cut by thorns of desire,
Scarred by your love,
She has come again to this alone place.

Bare walls, near dark--
Safe as stone.

Tea clear as sadness.
Love pure as salt.

Wind waking the green song
Of the chimes.

She goes down to the secret river;
She undresses the wound--
Baptize her in darkness,
Mother of this lonely place.

Do not come too near--
Let her bleed, and be alone.

She is filled with sacred water--
She is healed;
She grows and fills these bare rooms.

She flows down the avenues
Silent as her love--