My blood, my ocean. My tears, my gift.

 

Breathe on little sister, breathe on

          I am salt. I am tears.

          I am ocean.

I am unborn     young child     rebellious youth. I am

woman growing deeper into myself

down into my mystery, into the earth. I am

soft warm elder becoming frail

becoming ancestor & the wheel keeps turning.

 

Be like the river, little sister.

Hold on to nothing: let it go, let all go.

Open your fists, open your throat

          & scream & moan & wail & laugh.

 

I touch the handkerchief I knitted after my Mama died

to hold my tears. Today I fold it over my Sister’s body,

my Dad’s heart, over my own hands.

 

As tears turn into liberated hips

                                                cat-like oscillating of my spine

My belly draws soft spirals

                                                mimicking the movement of fern fiddleheads

Shoulder blades

                                                as wings of magpie & wild geese

 

My blood, my ocean. My tears, my gift.

 

I pray dear god, dear goddess, mama earth. I pray

to my ancestors who commune with yours

in behalf of us

          & the children. The children. All the children.