A celebration poem for ourselves
Today we are a massive sky, a painted canvas of wet cloud and cyclical rain,
Frost, hot breath pluming like heaving volcanic ash. Smolder. Shoulder to
shoulder we are here.
Today my daughter, you ran the comb through the long strands of your hair
and it became a river before my eyes. The black of it, a burning onyx.
Your eyelashes fettered, a spider’s diaphanous touch
ready to weave our story. We are all perching
on the mouth of this great chasm,
a powerful taught and silver wire.
Web, roar, ladies of wild creatures.
Let us be incandescent. Let us radiate in our power, palpitate with a common
strength and bond.
Let our hearts be of cedar and pine. The fecundity of the earth after the rain.
Let it be sermon.
Let it be song.
Daughter you took flight from my bones, grew wings and were of me;
And I of you.
We who were born of cosmos and stardust, born
with a light in our chest, a heated lung and lamp of the firmament
And she is I and I am she. And they are all of me. And we are all of you.
Which is to say, we germinate as the seed does. Golden kernel
and sweet everlasting water
We the non-violent and unconditional love of the mother, the
child woven from a tapestry of stars.
Today, Daughter we march on and on and on. Shoulder to shoulder.
Million women strong!
This choir of voices rising like a rose-colored dawn.
We are the holler and whistle, Justicia! Justicia! Justicia!
A smoldering flicker
ready to catch the flame.