I talked to God the other day.

She was purple and swollen,

her eyes tired shut.

She placed her hands on my knees

and leaned in to the curve of my belly,

her head curled to my lap.

Rest, she whispered,

shushing me the way I do the babies

while their mothers sleep,

the way I do women when their

minds talk over their bodies.

Ssssshhhhhh.

I quieted and placed the soft of my fingertips

over the dark of her eyes.

Your eyes, I whispered.

What can I do to help?

Rest, she said, her breath warm to my thigh.

Our bodies will beg us back if we do not listen.

Back to what I asked as the gentle weight of her

eased into me.

Back to the seed and salt we were birthed from,

to the star matter that divinely willed us into form.

I lifted my hands to reach for my face

and found the swollen purple of my eyes.

Rest, I heard whispered over the soft of my body.

And I listened.