The urge is always within, waiting in wandering roots unfurling tendrils of life  wading through soaked soil, pushing through silt and clay petals turn sunward leaves catch morning dew holy arachnid offerings glint between your sisters and you you: stubborn in your very existence, plucked in your prime, star-shaped and black-eyed black-eyed: not from taking the brunt of this cruelty but from existing as you’d always been,  as you are the violence of life displayed in your bea