ginger

sun spice set in soil

sweet hot and

burning brown root

stretch and scathe through

the veins of my mother and

her mother and

hers

her too

through coarse hands she

generates generations the

generous genius forming foundations

out of broken bodies breathing

alive in water

rough juice

tough skin

a soothing kind of blood

letting from her amber slits we all sip

her pungent fountain

circle ‘round daughters

sisters to the place where healers travel

back and forth from soil

to pots and saucers

masters of versatile

medicine makers

bubble and boil beneath the breastplate

inhale fire for damp lungs they have

always known

what you need

i trust in this

knowledge this

tradition of flavour

i trust

in glowing liquid passed

from her cup to mine i trust

in coming home to fill the nostrils whole i trust

in the sacred singeing i feel in my gut

while the world tells me no i trust

yes i trust

in ginger


Magdalin currently lives in Toronto where she enjoys teaching, painting, and stubbornly wearing dresses until it’s actually dress-weather.