i birthed beauty and the poetry inside that journey is still connecting the dots inside my hips, playing hide and seek in my joints and needs more water, more water, more water.....my body is still processing this next chapter. i might be here longer than i want to be.... i might be here after i have written and read the story many times. who knows. the heaviness that feels like me today, the pastry bags of my breasts, feeding beauty to keep her growing as i try to feed myself that other beauty.
the beauty inside rainbow chard, baby eggplants on a cake plate, the lemon basil in a ball jar on vintage cookbooks... breathing in all my bowls, the roundness feels like a safe place to land, to nap, to cry lots of tears... listening for an echo of myself, seeking my shadow, hoping to have a quick chat about the good old days... finding a swatch of myself somewhere inside this new landscape....
keeping the altar behind the sink real simple... bringing the shade down to keep it cool in there. that might be more important than all the other things.... inhaling gratitude, how blessed i am, and how heavy it still feels... exhaling trust, knowing it will pass, understanding that this is the life of a renaissance mama... wanting to do so much, yearning to water that poetry in my thigh to see what will come of it.... how will it grow once nurtured?
i want all that time back...
with my big ass wing, i pick up all my needs... one by one, combing their thin blonde hair... i look for those sweet chamomile buds & make a crown for each need, letting them know, i will be back soon.
That is poetry at its best. Completely genuine, stripped down to the heart and bones, and full of grace.
ReplyDeletethank you so much for this....
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