transition

nearly there.  wonder at the power inherent, contained, exploding forth. mystery and knowledge, expansion and contraction exist in the same breath.  it is that time we as women know in our bones. and I am immersed in it, swimming, floating, struggling. triumphant, brave, awesome, terrified. countdown, 10...

[Did You]

ever want so badly to just pour out all the words that are feelings stacked like swallowed gods inside you, rock like, taking up space the feelings are. They are feelings of doubt and shame and sadness and anger and they have names like "Mother" and "oil changes" and "work" and there is this weight that pulls each of your once light steps down firmly into the earth where your toes get dirty no matter how clean you try to keep them.

You know you can't pour those words out. Everyone has them, no one wants to hear them.

[broke]

The Buddhists say we must create from a place that is broken/open. I believe this. Nothing broke like my water, not before. Water in an unbroken line, before. The darshan of the dharana. The one-pointed, the stream. My son, who breaks me open every day, keeps me sculling in the ocean of my heart. Lost at sea, so to speak. So, to speak, to talk of what is broken, with a mouth that seems closed at all the wrong times, to write with a sinking feeling, a coffee cup with cracks in it. We keep gluing it back together, broken. Rich in love, we are yet broke. Pockets of currency, currents of love. I need a break. Will it break me? Giving birth, sucking up death, facing fear at every turn, my seams seem to scream. Bursting. A heart as big as a whale. A long crying out. A smile at dawn. The day breaks me again, and the night closes over us. Cowboy sheets and covers, a hole in the quilt, he now knows the word "gun," and I'm done. Line break. Empty space. Return.

[small]

Small hands and tiny eyebrows resting over sweet skin, pink cheeks and cornsilk for hair
as they sleep and breath and exhale a sweet scent that I have breathed since it was inside me.
I made that scent from my blood and milk.
They are like honey to me honey filled still with bees that warm and sting,
that fly by my head and remind me of love and health and
my body a living sculpture growing life
which now grows me.

-jg

[share]

who can do this? what is too much/too little? i want what's mine. and then some. i've learned that children are incapable, really, of doing this. i've learned that i can close like a frozen flower/mistakenly weeded out/dessicated petals/roots still buried under the fertile earth/hidden by leaves. roots entwined with big towering trees/not quite choking me off. my share my offering is rust/ashes from my father's funeral pyre/love songs/my simple intentions/a daily prayer only i ever see/the portion of/the piece of pie/the creation of the whole/holy/slash/burn/divided words/broken into puzzle pieces, my mind and heart/the missing feathers of a cowbird/a contribution that cannot be measured by any means/God's means/release from suffering in a small gesture, a mother's fingertips in his hair

[after]

oh, the timing. and the mining of time. the gold of the moment hidden, running on dirt before dawn. sounds of a house. dust and doors closing. fresh air, cold skin. bitter morning. dark cup. warm water. everyone in this house, even the chihuahua, is coughing. warmed feet on hard tile. shall we use the big pan or the small one? what's clean? dirty? dry? wet. the duality of thought, the reality of what's in-between. the space before the space where thought takes form, where words emerge from images, feeling, sensory input. my own eyes. amber brown. eyes like lamps, lids for boxes. well, i can see you got your brand new leopardskin pillbox hat. imagine that. fancy for a mommy who doesn't even wash her hair. fancy for plain. dressed up and nowhere to go. the simple pleasure of the living room dance club. living for my son's morning smile. not wholeheartedly given today. and that's okay. i can take the after as well as the before. the laughter and the chore chart. my heart, an open wound. my heart, some arms extended. my heart, never to lose and never to return to its original clean slate.