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.
All the ists exist in this I
That has narrow eyes,
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,
And sees without judgement
The games played,
The means manipulated,
And utters a simple phrase,
“That makes sense,”
As her gaze
Into the contexts
That pattern themselves restrictive
For all involved.
She breathes deep and long,
Appreciates the battles
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.
And soon the I’s are soothed into remembering:
There is more than this.
So much more.
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.
There are no words to express this pain.
They touch the surface of it;
Graze and glance off.
“It’s not fair,” is the childish refrain
That strikes my heart,
Tries to open it,
And squeeze inside.
Continue reading “Back to the Heart”
Gliding through shimmering mirrors
Passing reeds standing sentry.
Even slow speeds cause ripples,
But oh! What ripples!
Calm grace sliding by
Orange beak, white feathers
Flat against the back;
Continue reading “Natural Awe”
This life sings its own song,
If I let it.
Red velvet loosely covers my sins.
Loving is powerful,
Trapping and freeing.
Singing it sends me home.
I feel it rising,
Continue reading “This life sings its own song”
“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”
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!”
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”