Sacred circle
Stone in hand
I cut myself
for all to see
The wind is cold
upon my face
Still my fingers
are warm
As the blood flows
My words drip
collecting at our feet
Our eyes don't need to connect
To know our pain is shared.
Sacred circle
Stone in hand
The healing wraps itself
A protective blanket
Its threads weaving
Completing
this
Sacred circle.
— Feb. 21, 2009
Restorative justice through art retreat, Leaven