The Rising Moan

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The moan which cannot be heard
rises from my womb.
Fingertips clutch at bedclothes
channeling pain.
Earth writhing rhythms undulate
through inner cavern.

The place of pain and healing collide
erupting in transformation: joy!
The moan which cannot be heard
gives way to song.

It’s the song of returning to yourself.

Enter the cavern of transformation;
all are welcome within.

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