So Much More

I wish I fitted into my brown trousers comfortably.

But I don’t.

I wish I could love this fat body.

But I don’t.

And who is the I in this case?

Small I soaked in patriarchal values.

Sexist.

Racist.

Ableist.

All the ists exist in this I

That has narrow eyes,

Pursed lips,

Calculates and demands,

Constructs beliefs from spurious evidence

So it can fold in on itself with narcissistic glee.

A smirk twitches the corner of its lips

As it caves into itself with denigration.

The other I watches,

Curious,

Loving,

And sees without judgement

The games played,

The means manipulated,

And utters a simple phrase,

“That makes sense,”

As her gaze

Casts wider 

Into the contexts

That pattern themselves restrictive

For all involved.

She breathes deep and long,

Appreciates the battles

With self,

With others,

With the world,

Feels the sharp sadness spike her heart,

Sheds soft, soft tears

That roll and tickle their way

To her throat

Where a hatch opens,

A tiny hand reaches out

To catch the rain,

So beautiful in the sunlight

That dapples into the darkness,

Touches the pipes

That begin to warm

So she can make the sounds of love.

She sings

Of warmth

And beauty 

And rage

And soon the I’s are soothed into remembering:

There is more than this.

Always.

So much more.

Different threads linking me to the past

Different threads linking me to the past

Through my time and beyond.

I carry the ancestors’ blood,

Their woes and joys

And unspoken trauma.

Like lightning it finds its path

To easy ground.

I stand helpless as it works

Its way through me.

Tired, I want to rest

From the touch of

Its relentless fingers,

But I fear there is no end.

I feel pains in my flesh

As if time collapsed

And the trauma is happening now.

This will pass, I tell myself.

Yes, and it will come again.

I bow my head and weep.

Heart Womb Room

“Seriously,” said Sandra, “if you feed it, it will grow.”

“What shall I feed it?” Said I. I didn’t quite believe her yet.

“You’re the only one who can answer that,” she smiled and a tiny dimple stroked her cheek briefly.

“But I don’t know the answer!” I felt hot and the words left me quickly. She smiled again. I shook my head, then stared at her. Silence.

Then, “what?” She laughed.

Continue reading “Heart Womb Room”

Fucking pigeons!

Fucking pigeons! 

They land on the balcony and do their little dance. 

Beady eyes spying the corner where they laid eggs before. 

That sound as they land alerts me to them and I jump up and wave my arms. 

Sometimes they leave immediately. 

When it doesn’t work I turn the window handle to the open position. 

Continue reading “Fucking pigeons!”

Yes, we make a nice, soothing cup of tea

Light pours through my window. 

It does not trickle, it floods. 

Some things get covered. 

Some remain in the shade; 

Slightly cold and damp to touch. 

It is a poor second to being outside in the woods. 

Like a cat I find a sun spot and let the sun caress my toes. 

Continue reading “Yes, we make a nice, soothing cup of tea”