The water of Scorpio

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Sun, Saturn, Mercury, Moon,

line up in Scorpio like little soldiers,

pointing their rifles at me

in my death and rebirth.

It feels too much like swimming,

where I thought death would be a fall,

a shatter.

And the water of Scorpio suddenly makes sense.

It pulls you in like a flood,

kills you like drowning,

and rebirths you like a womb.

Death means everything

as the universe sparks anew.

Jupiter squares Saturn,

expanding through Leo,

and it makes it that much harder to die.

But the waters swell and smother;

the womb of the earth surrounds me

before she dilates,

and it’s always something better on the other side.

 

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