i have a problem making titles

8/3/09
Enjoy.


Women, you walk around half broken
half fake
your minds working overtime
not in the name of love
or beauty
or life
but because you can't seem to unite
what you see in a magazine
to your phenotypical design
self-projected hate
flying through this space
covering your face
in the scornful gaze of a woman who has forgotten
where she came from.

women, you have forgotten where you came from
you have forgotten the age-old stories of your mothers
inopportune amnesia has caused you to ignore your god-given intuition
or maybe you made the decision
either way,
you have forgotten
where you came from

you have forgotten the babies you nursed
and the children you have lost
you have forgotten the barefoot walks
on sun-bleached sand and moist forest floors
you have forgotten meeting by the shore
in the late morning sun to braid
wildflowers made of color and air
through the hair of other women

women, you have forgotten your sisters

their full lips and matching hips
no longer seem familiar to you
and you let their long necks stoop
and spines crumble
under pressure
and in the absence of
the strong rope weaved from the hair of every woman who came before her
It is the only thing that will keep her from falling
over the edge of the mountain called self-hate
but women,
you have forgotten where you came from

you have forgotten the first full moon you saw clearly
that night that all the women in the village
washed the lifeblood from between your thighs
with water from the River
while your mother fed you mooncakes and wine
and your sisters sang to the goddess within you
that had come of age in the short time you are lent on this earth

but women,
you have forgotten where you came from
because you let this man tell you
to stop being a bitch
well take your closed mind and your small dick
and get out of my bed
because i'm going to the river
to wash your musk from my sheets
in the sweet scent of wildflowers made from color and air

i had forgotten where i came from
i had forgotten what i could learn from the breeze
the difference between the scent of a new season
and the lingering stench of a dead animal
i had forgotten my strong brown legs and my soft brown belly
i had forgotten why they were meant to be that way
i had forgotten that half of the world's population
was comprised of Eves
and who they are
is a part of me
now we can start to be
the way we were meant
loving, strong, clairvoyant, beautiful...
remembering is the first step
to being free

seeking title

Photo: Sun rising (with a vengence?) over battered façade of El Morro, Old San Juan


Enjoy.


_______________________


Yesterday we eloped
Shotgun wedding style
In preparation of our love child
The baby announcement reads:

Join us in celebrating the birth of I
Daughter of proud parents me and myself.
Lovingly acknowledged by granparents mother earth and father god.
(To be baptized at no church
By godparents Past & Future Self. )

She was born between disbelief and despair
Nights of memories forgotten come back to scare
the poor child
While gilded hopes floated past her sleeping form to be breathed in
in the fitful way of the half dead.
Simultaneously starved and fed
Still
she arose

The Lotus
Emerging from the dregs
Of her own old soul
To be born again
In the way that we people sometimes do
Not emerging from the womb
Legs and eyes and fingers
new
No
To be created from her own broken rib
Having reached epiphany at the moment her insides were turned out and she watched her own heart pulsing in the palm of her hand
She turned herself around and walked away for good
Leaving a shell of herself marooned in a different time...
and started to feel again
Not the muted touches
And cold caresses of shadows and ghosts
But dark red kisses
And peaceful mornings
Deep sleep
And hearty laughter
A soul awakened
To its own timeless beauty
And unceasing will.