This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine...

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Reaching Toward Equal Sunrise, Equal Sunset

My rituals are begun.  I'm about to write my three pages, clearing the way, centering myself, sinking into a comfortable writing seat.  Soon I will ignore the rise and fall of the winged creatures outside my creation room window.  I will stop imagining what they are and are not, stop marking the patterns their flights seem to make.  Though they do fascinate me with their dances.

Before I dive into my writing today I did a bit of reading from my super-hippie daily calendar, the We'moon 2011 (30th anniversary) edition.  Here is a piece of prose, from this week, that I liked and want to share.


I plucked out my wing feathers--they said I belonged on the ground.
I stopped dancing and singing--they said I had no rhythm.
I silenced myself--no one was listening.
I stitched my eyes shut--So I didn't have to see what was happening.
I dug my own grave and lay in it--So I didn't have to feel the pain
So I could be at peace
In the emptiness.
There in the pit
I found my bones
In the marrow of my bones
There was strength
In the pulsing of my blood
There was rage
In my flesh--Desire
I clawed my way out of that grave
Using my strength, rage and desire.
Carefully I cut away the stitches
To see the truth
I whispered my words to myself
I started to sway and hum
To my own music
Now I am gathering feathers

Resurrection by Eileen Rosensteel

This poem reminds me of a post I wrote over three years ago. (How can it be that long?) It's called On Reviving Myself and you can read it here.

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