woman’s work

she changed her child’s body for a woman’s,

changing shape, echoing the moon’s dance with her blood,

a wild and wondrous thing.

is that not magic?

she walks into a room, without a word,

and men young and old look up, 

suddenly alert as startled bucks.

is that not magic?

she grew a new life under her ribs,

out of nothing, nearly

and rich milk to feed it, and it thrives.

is that not magic?

she soothes children and animals,

banishes sorrow and fear

with a touch and a murmur.

is that not magic?

she moves among the grass and trees, 

finding food, finding medicine.

is that not magic?

she brews and bakes and churns 

one thing into another

barley into beer, wheat into bread, cream into butter.

is that not magic?

she wraps wool about a weighted stick, drops and pulls, 

making thread to weave into warmth.

is that not magic?

she hears her household in the night hours

wakeful elders, hungry babies, amorous husbands,

and leaves her sleep and dreams to be with them.

is that not magic?

she dances, shimmying her hips, 

shaking her shoulders, swinging her hair,

and all of nature awakens.

is that not magic?

she takes a handful of this, a scattering of that, 

from the not-much of her pantry, cooking a daily feast.

is that not magic?

she knows that what she knows 

is worth all the world, though the world takes no notice,

and offers it anyway.

is that not magic?

contradictions

sometimes i think that we are wisest

where we know the least

strongest when we sink in grief

or rise in joyous sparks

most able when we cease to try

and simply lie unresisting in the stream

of all that is, 

just sitting with it in the quiet dark 

where we hatch our souls.

lunacy

i know why chained dogs howl at the moon

i turn my teeth on myself

i rend what is already tattered

rather than tear at the one who tears at me

how mysterious, the changeable and ever-cycling moon

how mysterious, that people can say they love,

and mean such different things

we make our chains by what we give or keep

i gave you all and freely

i made you all that mattered to me

if my lonely spirit sings in the dry spells,

if it sings to you of rain, of waxing full again,

it sings to the unhearing, incomprehensible moon

grammar lessons

past, present, future

there is a grammar to life---

you need to know how to conjugate

your hopes and memories,

how (and what) to decline,

what tense to use for the tensions

amo, amas, amat, amamus, amatis, amant

cogito, ergo sum.

(the sum is sometimes greater, sometimes less,

than the parts.)

past tense:

after my daughter was born,

i asked him

more than once---

come with me, i said,

please, come with me

on this journey i cannot help but take

because it is my life.

present tense:

i sit at the window

watching cold rain

slide down the glass,

confronting all the ways in which

i've failed,

fighting the temptation

to keep doing nothing.

future tense:

i want to take these broken pieces

that were my life

shake them up and let them fall,

glittering and turning

and watch them land,

to read a pattern into random shards

and hope they make some new whole.

grow

who among us is not

a girl interrupted,

a woman spinning wildly

as she tries to find her center

we face our challenges

as best we may

long weeping nights

and long enduring days

we spin, we fall,

we pick up, pack up, and move on

we bravely enter and re-enter

our own unknown

we turn aside from fears

and stubbornly we say

we will care for all,

no one excepted

not even ourselves

time to plant the tears.

darksong

the slip of skin on skin
as pillows lump and sheets tangle
at night, a forest grows
green leaves twine around us
who lie like tangled ruins
hearts beating still
with the rhythm of the night
which sings of secret things

blooming scarlet and gold

beneath a cold moon

helen

 irresistible,

 you see her walking,

 her hands full of poppies

 and silver-gilt barley

 you cannot help but follow

 the sway of her hips

 in flounced skirts,

 the sway of her breasts above,

 the gold and faience beads

 sliding over gleaming skin

 brows like a swallow’s wing

 reddened lips

 and scarlet suns painted

 on her cheeks and chin

 kohl-lined eyes

 deeper than the sacred pool 

 she has aphrodite’s love

 all men are fools for her,

 all women too

 the poets will get it wrong

 they will forget

 her power was of the earth and sky,

 not just of lovers’ sighs,

 yet that the two were linked

 in their songs

 they put too much eris and thanatos,

 a sullied eros only,

 a betrayal of charis,

 too many bright blades

 and cities burning

 in her world

 her beauty was not a tragic gift,

 but an emblem:

 the favor of the gods made clear,

 a kingdom’s talisman

 against all want and fear,

 the sun’s own child,

 her radiant face

 fortune’s magnet

 she is waving grain,

 figs and olives bending branches,

 rain on the fields,

 bounding lambs,

 dripping combs,

 grapes bursting in the wine vats,

 children laughing in the lanes,

 the glowing sun

 drawing goodness from the land

 when she stretches out her hand

 the earth hearkens

 let the girls dance for her by the river,

 let matrons offer mirrors in her temple,

 let men watch her walk 

 and ache

 she is the spark

 that lights all fire

 dispelling all dark

 irresistible