Pineal Awakening

September at dawn;
On the shores of Patara
a lone fisher casts into the lap of darkness,
Unaware —just as Fynbos blooms
into fractured rainbows of the Western Cape.

In Banaue, tanned women bend,
planting seedlings in bare, mirrored terraces,
Their waters cascading like shattered glass.
A willow whispers in Gion’s breeze
to fleeting beauty, fluid in passing.

At Iglesia de Chamula,
A chicken faints,
overcome by the weight of incense,
the air thick with pine and sacrifice.

Meanwhile, trembling legs sway,
Precarious on high heels
in a milonga bar on Avenida Corrientes.

And me —
a pupa in Khao Sok’s rainforest,
learning to fly.

05.2020