Rebirth
a motionless falling backward
into the dark abyss from which
all life emerges
A time
for obliteration, surrender
from the buried seed of my silent mind
I will choose my nourishment
Then thoughts
like baby green sprouts
bursting toward the surface for light
and exchange of gases
I will form myself again
Deep dive
A steady slow descent
Sinking
Surrounded by thick primordial soup
In motion
I become small
And powerless
A human-sized drop of water
Colliding gently
It’s time to write again
Synthesize
Log my thoughts
While there is time enough for them to breathe
Still have an ache in my spine
Right between the shoulders
Behind my heart
Where i slung a 20# weight from my slender frame
Until I inhaled pain and exhaled nausea
Then again, my upper spine violently bent to the left,
T-boned,
Too eager for the direct route
to work
But too careful to take a blind risk
And a new ache, left, below my stomach
First noticeable against my seat belt
Pushing away the pressure
A belly yearning to grow
or a fight against
suffocating tightness
of waistbands and circumstances
I still grind my teeth
Quick, rhythmic sharpening in the day
My own songs
Tapping molded plastic at night
Forever frustrated with the pace
My children,
You may struggle as I do
To find your place.
I have taken jackhammers to concrete, changed my names, carried my belongings thousands of miles.
I have drifted, high and light, spinning with feather arms, winds carrying me far from home into new lands.
All along, losing myself, catching glimpses of my joy, learning about myself.
I want to meet you on fertile, welcoming soil.
I want to be joyful in my labor. Pointed in my power.
What could father have done? Do we knock on new doors, or do we wait for introductions?
In a foreign state
Surrounded by family
Running and gleefully shouting beautiful children
Feeling a crisis of ambition
Wondering again
As we pass graffiti endorsements for Governor
President
What is calling out to me now?
What laughter stays vibrating in my ovaries?
What can I create from my unrootedness?
Is the soil even fertile? And will there be sun?
Or does it want me to die a forever migrant?
Is that still, small voice still singing?
Or is she bound and gagged and forced to watch the abuse?
Drugged and made placid
How to connect to your dreams when they’ve collected so much dust
Not 6 feet yet
Maybe one day we will look back
And see that this was when the feminine
Emerged
That we got our first female President
In 2016
Not like we wished for…
Fierce, wise, brave, fit, gorgeous
More like a nascent caricature of a woman
As if you’d heard of one but never met one
And were scared to death of them
Constantly moved by untamable emotions
Erratic, controlling, moody
Soft-bodied, so low on testosterone the skin glows
The teeth rot
Honesty an afterthought, words draw attention, and that’s enough
Reveling in competition between women
Gilding oneself in jewels and precious metals
Hoping to catch the light
Turn heads
Draw them all in, pocketbooks wide
Kissing your feet
She’s not fit for war
Too much money to be collected
Wars are expensive
Bowing at the altar of the goddess
The still mysterious feminine
Unworthy of our worship
Too soon to be understood
I just elbow-nudged R to move over so I can type freely. A queen bed is feeling smaller and smaller all the time!
I also just said, “I hate farts!” out loud. I hate farts in enclosed spaces. It’s like a sign that humans are not meant to live within 4 walls, but out in nature where the wind can do her job.
There is something interesting about preparing to be wedded during divisive political times. I heard it said poetically that when Kaepernick took a knee, Americans had to take a stand. They just arrested a radical right-wing bombing suspect, taking violent rhetoric to its ultimate end. Thankfully America is standing for peace together against this display of violence toward prominent democrats. It’s painful and gross to see Republicans try to spin this to somehow be a Democrat problem.
It’s all the more interesting given my heritage of conservatism. Quarreling with family members and their friends has been a flavor of this year, and it has left me with an intensified feeling that I am truly going through a rite of passage where I become my own woman, setting the stage for my own family–my own values. And abandoning those ways of talking, doing, and being which no longer serve me.
I see values on a balanced scale anyway: sometimes we tilt more right or left, but neither side needs to be demonized. Humans love to invent or root out problems, even where there are relatively few (given the scale of all the world’s problems).
I am grateful for the few problems we have.
I am slowly becoming more physically active again. Going to lots of yoga classes has been working, and now adding in interval jogging is working well. Personal training not going as great–hard to get a consistently good trainer. I asked for the most knowledgeable person, but they turned out narcissistic, so next time I’d just ask for a competent and attentive person. It’s like that Brendan Frazier movie–careful what you ask for.
Forced myself to go to the pool tonight. “You’ll love it when you get there.” Inertia is strong.
Indeed, surrounded by water my thoughts have room to exhale. So many pour out, swirl, combine. Emotions and memories held in the body surface for me to face. Information locked within them is retrieved. Conclusions are drawn. Visions are formed.
I move freely; gracefully. I exert and relax completely. I rebalance and adjust my Achilles’…my spine…and shoulders. I breathe. I dive. I warm. I stretch.
I swim.
As I took my seat in the packed courtroom, the defendant and his attorney surveyed the pool of jurors. Were they looking for a sympathetic face? They scanned us like someone desperate to make a friend. I averted my gaze lest they think I was too friendly, or too likely to sympathize. Surely this young man with shoulder-length dirty blonde hair with streaks of white was the defendant. Once his name was read I was certain. With a name like Mr. White Trash Insect, he was doomed. Ms. Christmas, representing the people, would make sure Justice was served.
Two young women in headscarves sat at the front of the room. They seemed very serious. They were not part of the jury.
The judge was passionate about justice. She spent nearly an hour explaining the process to us. Her idealism moved me to tears. Her voice carried the strength and resolve of the institution she represented. Yes, ma’m, I would feel honored to serve our country on a jury.
Snoring and skin
Black panther
Cut shorter
Warmer days
Left out
Climbing up
Institutions
Stewardship and tourism
Babies and why
Kindness and dependence
On guard