Mandrake Dream Poem by Maria J. Andrade

The mother asked, ' What is it that you eat? '
The girl replied, 'It is mandrake.'
And a voice added, 'Yes, it is mandrake and
it grows by the light of the moon.'


It is not what is in front of me
that draws me,
but that behind the obvious,
deep within and back of the seed,
breaking past kernel,
even beyond the fluid life therein,
back, behind eyes,
to the encased force that looks out
flesh windows,
past, way beyond the cover of stars,
where worlds end,
where source exists,

face to face with the mystery,
even if my being would explode
in terror and ecstasy.

I feed on magic,
from sources all around,
available diet from
nature's myriad faces,
behind whose masks
live silent, sacred, worlds.