Even the most repressed woman has a secret life, with secret thoughts and secret feelings which are lush and wild, that is, natural. Even the most captured woman guards the place of the wildish self, for she knows intuitively that someday there will be a loophole, an aperture, a chance, and she will hightail it to escape.
Clarissa Pinkola Estés
. . .
What we cannot imagine cannot come into being.
bell hooks
“Heart Pebbles” by Kathleen Schlarb
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We mined our histories with feathers.
We remembered the lies that blew out the light.
We owned our partial blindness.
We owned our imprisoned hopes.
. . .
We named how we were captured.
Where we stayed stuck.
What we lost in isolation.
In sharing, our words took on wings,
flew us out the doors we’d shut
. . .
And there we were, and here we are.
Living cathedrals, befriended by tears,
echoing with desire,
loving not our self-willed lives
even unto death.
“Overcomers – Now and in the Future” by Tania Martin
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“Dama Gladiola” by Lyndia Radice
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. . .
And the water tells me
Your water is my water
my water is your water
my flow is outside of time
you came from the before
and to the before you will return
into the fold of wave after wave
that will hold you always
in the cradle of my current
“Words of the Water” by Shelly Smithson
. . .
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