The scar, sharp and straight 

up your middle, root chakra
tapped, waterdragon, rising.
Many talk of the dark
 
night of the soul, but what
happens when it’s not kundalini?
Not for enlightenment.
No, the quaking hungry snake of spine
 
chose encoiling uterus and ovaries instead.
Claiming a rise into the solar 
plexus, feasting there. Stopped
leaving the heart untainted,
 
unbeaten, unhurt. What happens
when, while you were under
the doctor asks for a meeting?
Sweat-soaked, flint of muscle
 
and eye, he wants permission
three hours into a two hour surgery,
  
to make a larger incision.
He looks like he’s been in a bar
fight for the last few hours already.
Yes of course, my life doesn’t make sense without her.
  
“That is true in my house as well.”
 He likes us. He gets up and I laugh
 nervous and too loud.  Affix bayonets.
 
He keeps walking but a big sigh,
  
adjusted ease of shoulder, slight
head shake say that one hit the mark.
We like him too.
At your bedside 3 hours later 
  
he tells us it is very possible 
that you are now cancer free,
no guarantees.
So just like that it’s over,

the dark night of the body. 
Your scar is where life
in fact did
from root rise.