As a late onset of winter,
as a thick husk, peeling,
as a veil,
I open the door again, and bright sun
blinding and harrowing
washes me over, I have taken the first step
toward a life.
/
The wet season pulls me from me.
Winter is the blood for us women
the steeping of self, our body
yelling so loud we can not hear
anyone but her and again,
we are her, with her of her,
the dam is filling
the dam is breaking.
/
Remembering my body and the thousands
of wombs that held me before
is the most rich and deep blessing.
I see again, mirroring in all things around me
the mockery of this truth, smiling like pansies.
As waking in the morning
as the small shoots
as washing the blood from
my hands
each season a different shade,
as sleep once again.
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