Wednesday, February 13, 2008
1)I was born in a windy city, in a hospital named after the patron saint of animals.
2)In this year women fought to free their bodies from government control. Bob Marley released Exodus. I benefit from both.
3)My home is soft with my sweet smelling mother. My mother's sisters rush around me whispering female myths in sandlewood voices.
4)My spirited father leaves and takes refuge in his brother. Each week's end makes my stomach hurt, but I do not know why.
5)I am caught between playing and knowing. I dream of my family drowning.
6)The mother takes another man into the home, he smells different and behaves different. The daughters long for the father, but their longing is lost in adult words.
7)My aunts emerge and speak of bleeding and woman and nakedness. They are red and glowing and I am afraid.
8)I hide under books and get lost in long school hallways. The other adolescents speak in tongues I do not know. I share my markings and feel hot and ashamed.
9)I am free in corn fields. Black crows fly above and I follow.
10)I fall over and over again in love with literature and poetry and men and ideas. My world explodes and I am the center.
11)I follow the moon across the ocean and meet women clad in colorful saris. We move and dance. Words are unnecessary.
12)I get lost in California.
13)I am found in Alaska.
14)In Colorado I meet him and all my knowing is undone. I go the way I have not gone and colors pour out of my mouth.
15)He holds me in southern light.
16)We make a life together. It is hot. He makes art out of everything. My body is joyful and resting.
17)We weave another life into ours. We walk in a circle through the woods. Our dog sniffs out animal life and leads us to water.
18)Her mystery unfolds in our bedroom. It is the beginning of June. She bursts into being.
19)The lines on our face grow deeper. We begin to notice young people.
20)There are nine possible incarnations. We are waiting for Fortuna to spin her wheel.
She grew inside of me for nine months and now she sits on my shoulders. She looks good there with her eyes open and intense, as if she knows that she is part of a long lineage of powerful women. She's a clan leader, no doubt.
We've been packing up the things in our home, the home that she was born in. I want her to know this place, this home and carry it with her, whereever she goes. The sea green room where she made her mark, the silver oak trees, changing leaves, speckled fawns, bobcat wandering, her owl brethren; I want to pack up those images and weave them in her hair, adorn her with them. Mostly I want her to know that she can always return to that soft, calm knowing that everything is good, that she is cared for, loved and treasured.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
There are three generations standing on this frozen lake. My father, his daughters and our two daughters. We came together last weekend at my father's home on Lake Minnetonka for no other reason than to spend time together. It was lovely. My sister's daughters are radiant and loving (just like her). At one point over the weekend I looked out and saw my husband, my sister, her daughters, her husband, my father, my step-mother and my daughter cirlcing around the room...playing, laughing, talking. One big constellation of family. It made me cry.