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.