Sadly, we’re down to Danielle’s last piece in the series. Let’s hope there are more in the future! Until then, savor each word.
The Mother & Young Woman:
I want to love on him
I want to hit on him
I want to love on him
I want to hit on him
The Daughter:
What was it some man said
for you it is now winter.
It is always winter
when this wave hits.
It is always winter
waiting around one turn of the planet
It is always spring somewhere too
and summer and autumn
all at the same time.
Does no one speak of the violence
of spring
or the trials of summer
or the unyielding autumn
Does no one ever
hold the beauty
and the ugly
in the palm
of the mind
at the same time-
Are we children
yes we are children
and yes we are capable
of more
of expansion
of holding these truths
and concepts
of stretching to them
and with them.
Mother:
Stretch marks
wether you had them
have them or not
you/we were stretched
at one time-
What we were not prepared
for consciously
was being stretched
so soon after
the original birth.
Stretched
with the horror & grief
from the death
of our loved ones
by the chasm
left
in their wake
of disappearance
and transformation-
Do we hold off
the spectrum of emotion
by being frozen
in I did not do enough.
Do we stop progress
by clinging to or its
refrain clinging to us.
It is our seeming
one defense
against change-
Some call it denial
some call it bargaining
I say it’s all I got-
Bereft, besieged
it holds what
I know of him
in the way I know this person
The way I know my love
My love I am afraid
will disappear
dissolve
in the darkness& nothingness-
Is there an end to this-
Is there a path through this-
I hear wooden chimes
clacking in the breeze
I smell a fragrance
salt air, lilac
honeysuckle
I smell nothing-
I smell your memory
and my longing for you-
This I sense tucked in my ball.
The bodies grief unwinds
incrementally-
Justice is on the other side
My daughter walks over to me
and reaches her hand
out to me
The tears and anger
for now
stilled yet present within her
She sees me like this
and even through my shame
something more elegant
and weightless
extends my hand to her-
Where she is moist
I am dry
It is as if we need
an exchange of emotional climate
a transfusion
to bring into balance
our lives.
Mother & Daughter:
In winter nothing grows?
Is that so?
I tell you tear drops
swell in Winter
I tell you snow flakes
grow in Winter
Stillness grows in Winter
microcosms
do an indelible dance
in Winter
Love grows in Winter
