A safe place.
A womb a sacred site
To worship and work
One must create within.
To be clergy,
And take reins from the rains
The sand and the dirt
One must first rite
At the altar of the trees
And right the wrongs of other rites
To pillage, to sow the desires
Of man-made sins
A suicidal ideation
Of greed
And hapless victims
Caught in an endless web
Caught in the wheel
That catches flame
Igniting not one,
Not two,
But thousands aflame.

Alight a light,
A womb
A tinderbox
To sanctify
For man’s pleasure.

How can you take your rite
On this hallowed ground,
Given freely
Given with a smile
Given with the exchange.
Come and come away
And see what may emerge
If only not ravaged by time
And on the precipice of desire.

A place to seed.
A place to sleep.
A place to seep.
Your lust,
Love,
Sanctification.

©️ Samantha Mae Sweeney 2024