...for air.
and the ground looks manageable from here.
large chunks of the rock that pinned me
flailing
to the killing floor
are falling
and I am above such crumbling truths
things I believed were lies
are now showing themselves
as gold
silver lined puffs of rain
slivering to dust
and I am up and running against the grain again
how could I have faltered so fully before
rain is only water
falling
a cup of it could quench all desire I cradled as holy
parts of me
weak and flesh
still wish to hold the memory of you
as perfect
but we are all human and we fail
err
survive
and some of us are better at telling the tale
therapy is a sweet stick of salt/sugar/sucked dry
licking the stiff lip
of what could have been
and why we did not do better than our mothers hoped for us
grandmothers become softer as they age
they fold furry
into the arms of some small terror
screaming abandon
from the body
of a daughter/woman become
invisible
we accept
the cloak of not being seen
beg for the feral shape of our offspring
to flower
feed the child
please
feed the child
suckling at the throat of society's monstrous inequities
nothing is bolder than living all the way through
the drowning
the small gasps
the closing of all things imagined
for after this moment
we become dust
and I am content with my lot today
a friend
lounging careless on my living room couch
the soft shade of avocadoes casting light
on our faces
good friends and food
and what I have come to know as family
my poems
and my back crashing against my own floor
my own fingers learning to play an old instrument
again
my own cunt
full with the flesh of my own possibilities
calling me
I am calling me now
and forever
I will always own myself
my voice
mine
my body is mine
my heart
my year
insurmountable
and the beauty of the few things that went
just right
fight with me woman/child
you are only
me
outside of a collective voice
can you hear me
Staceyann!
can you hear me woman
with broken body
smaller than she can see
can you hear the small rumble
the yawp becoming
music
morphing into madness
the circle
the scent of me
walking backwards
sometimes this is the way to undo
the inevitable
it will happen
but only as I choose
only as I choose
only as I choose
only as I...
Staceyann
Posted by staceyann at December 17, 2003 05:25 AMwoman... i hear you. sometimes, when all alone, but not entirely lonely, i feel the need to connect to another, just to know that i too am heard. we need each other to confirm each others existance, and woman... i hear you. i know you hear me,m cuz you write to me... you write about me... and i keep coming back to read from your infinate understanding of woman... and believe me... more women need to hear you roaaaar!
good food and friends have become family, and so have you - i welcome you with open arms into my life. thanx for keeping on keeping... mak.
"I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart. I am. I am. I am." Sylvia Plath-
Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain;
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink
And rise and sink and rise and sink again;
Love cannot fill the thickened lung with breath,
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;
Yet many a man is making friends with death
Even as I speak, for lack of love alone.
It well may be that in a difficult hour,
Pinned down by pain and moaning for release,
Or nagged by want past resolution's power,
I might be driven to sell your love for peace,
Or trade the memory of this night for food.
It well may be. I do not think I would.
Edna St. Millay
And so it is. You neither sell nor trade--