One night Under the witness of starlight I snuck into the garden Knelt in the midnight-dark soil And planted my tiny voice in the moonlit earth
It would not grow inside my throat You see There was no room for it there So I had to pluck the small, fragile thing out
I knew it had things to say Experiences to share Stories to weave with the help of breath and feeling But it was failing to thrive inside my throat A smothered and guttering spark
I knew it would grow roots in the rich earth After all It was closest to the ancestors' bones I knew that when the sun rose it would grow And when the rain fell it would drink deep
I fertilized it with poetry Tended it with song And sure enough it grew bit by bit It became a hardy thing A beautiful thing full of strength and confidence
One morning In the light of dawn I dug it up and swallowed it down One giant gulp It flipped and turned as it settled Leaving my throat raw and aching
When it finally stilled I spoke My voice emerged rich and warm It did not waiver or whisper I began to tell my stories and sing my songs And when I was shushed My voice resounded like a thunderclap
I lay beneath a starless sky Wondering where they have gone Have they become the freckles Dancing across my nose Strands of silver streaking my hair Glitter in my joyful tears Have they fallen to Earth So I can shine
I love watching the women with fire in their veins The girls with Punky Brewster profiles They enter with energy so big the room feels small Laughs that ring out above the rest - distinctive and full bellied They refuse to be shamed by the PTA moms Not allowing their messy edges to take away from their contributions They embody the revolutionary girl that Nikita Gill wrote rules for Standing up for themselves and others Accepting no excuses for bad behavior They are often truth tellers slicing through mass delusions Magic makers manifesting dreams into reality Only ever competing with themselves Chin high and eyes sharp They are goddess and girl Witch and woman Scorching or blessing the ground they walk In equal measure Giving no fucks and taking no shit As they say "yes, and" or "hell, no" Fierce and joyous and unapologetically free
I bought myself roses today Colored for this transitional season The meridian between winter and spring Watched the red robins play in quiet branches Coated in the soft white of early spring snow Sat at my window sipping steaming coffee Tapping into a calm that was new to me Reveling in the luxury of peaceful stillness And let myself smile
I find myself standing upon another threshold Bags packed Affairs ordered The past at my back as I stand poised to step into my future In this liminal space I wish to pause To linger in this brief moment Between heartbeats Between footsteps To reflect on this transition
I have packed the important things Lessons Friendships Memories Love Potential Hope I have purged the obsolete Pain Fear Illusions Expectations Obligations A version of a life I outgrew
I note my era of milestones Marriage Motherhood Misery greater than a person should ever hold
I will miss the map pin piercing the shape of what has been and always will be home Marking the places and people that ripened me into the woman I am Whose stories now inform my mythology
The second hand strains I breathe in one more breath Infuse the ether of a fading life Into the nucleus of my cells As I complete my crossing Into the dawn of my new life
It's Saturday in the mid 1980s Fashion Island Mall is hopping I am at the ice rink My happy place Skating circles while the beeps and boops of video games, The clatter of quarters dropping into the tray of change machines Spills out of The Gold Mine arcade across the way Movie goers in neon and Aqua Net buying tickets for Risky Business Ferris Bueller's Day Off Ladyhawke Teen Wolf or Mannequin At the DJ booth a 17 year old white boy Wearing a black sequined windbreaker and a single white sequined glove Introduces himself as Hollywood Hans Where he spins vinyl into a vibrant soundtrack featuring The Bangles Culture Club Michael Jackson Madonna Eurythmics and Wham I am in the midst of it Skating laps and laps Avoiding the teen hockey skaters with their scary sharp blades and recklessness The kids and teens begging Hans to play their favorite songs: "Play Thriller, Hans!" "I want Eye of the Tiger!" "Wake Me Up Before You Go Go!!" "You got Everybody Wants To Rule The World?" "It would be rad if you play Like A Virgin!" "Dude! Play Broken Wings!" "Like, totally play Love Is A Battlefield" "Walk Like An Egyptian would be bitchin'!" You might find me throwing quarters down the gullet of Dig Doug Pole Position or Donkey Kong While the Zamboni resurfaces the ice once an hour Or, begging my mom for one of Sbarro's signature giant slices of New York style pizza A food court staple Bonus prizes if she throws in an Orange Julius Aspiring figure skaters owning center ice Spinning and jumping dramatically Kristi Yamaguchi among them I'd later learn I am here to glide in endless circles to the music Flying fast and free Occasionally spinning or trying to Shoot the Duck With mixed results Singing along to all of the songs Always sad when Hans calls the last skate of the session Reluctantly drying my blades Pulling on my skate guards Following my mom out of the mall to the car Exhausted and happy Already dreaming of the scratch of blades on smooth resurfaced ice The rhythms of the 80s Taking my broken wings and helping me to fly again Time after time A holiday For a girl that just wants to have fun
I fucking hate homework And projects And assemblies And parent-teacher conferences It’s a gauntlet of pushing and pulling Begging and beguiling Praying and pleading I have to pretend I know what I’m doing Convince teachers I’m a capable parent When I feel like the absolute worst I’ve used all the gas in my emotional tank Before my children walk back in the door “What’s for dinner, Mom?” “I ripped my pants, Mom.” “I have a field trip, Mom.” “I have a project due on Monday, Mom.” There are more moments than I am proud of Where I mourn my party of one days Then one of my sons says “I love you, Mama.” Points to my chest and asks “Are you ok in there, Mama?” Takes my phone and tucks me in and says “You’re sick, Mama. You need to rest.” I start feeling like less of a fuck up Like I might be getting something right Like we all might just be alright
Spring has arrived Birds sing sweetly In quickening branches bursting with blooms My winter soul peers out of bleary eyes Before I pull the covers over my head
Words Wishes and Wisdom 