Petals For a Placenta

After the waves recede, (and the wind lends its howl to the mourners) people still have to be laid into the final sleep, as the newly homeless take shelter in the hills-under trees. Some retreat to the mountains to retrieve their runaway souls.. or cancel themselves from pain and loss all together. The storm has deemed even the fish homeless blown them far into the heart of the land where they slash about muddy pools gulping for the last pearls of oxygen. Long after the big show boats slog away close the curtain on the glittery stage show After the masses and media lose interest, she'll still be there helping birth babes.. The one they call mamma-miracle the one with god in the eyes and Jesus in her palms who sprinkles petals over placenta leaving the cord of life connected for just a little while longer so the newborn has a calm-soothing transition not one of harshness and shock... She whispers to the newborn and prays for the still born that things will be fine... as its spirit sheds the last earthly tether crossing over to the other side and makes for the painless brightness of heaven... (Even as another loved one is laid to rest) long after the storm and the last ship has left, as bodies rot on the breast plate of God the islanders still believe that God, the sun and the petite one, they call mother miracle, will rise every day to keep them warm bring their babies into the world and somehow hold their frayed prayers together.