Thursday, July 31, 2003

For a moment I was silent. Nostalgia..according to the dictionary, nostalgia is a 'bittersweet longing for things, persons, or situations of the past. The condition of being homesick.' The question took my breath away because until that instant i'd never realized that I write as a constant exercise in longing. I have been an outsider nearly all my life, a circumstance I accept because I have because I have no alternative. Several times I have found it necessary to pull up stakes, sever all ties, and leave everything behind in order to begin life anew elsewhere; I have been a pilgrim along more roads than I care to remember. From saying goodbye so often my roots have dried up, and I have had to grow others, which, laking a geography to sink into, have taken hold in my memory. But be careful! Minotaurs lie in wait in the labyrinths of memory..{more..}

i could write of the beginning. of a time where it all began. how with a spot and a slight ache, the doors of womanhood where opened and i was left
shivering in the cold with anxious anticipation from my mother. and how, many years later, i understood lying in cold sweet and anguish threatening to rip my heart apart, the trepidation of feminity.

i could write of this woman i see at work. with long, glistering hair, shimmering with a touch of coconut oil. tall. regal looking. the daughter of shiva. her lips etched with the red orche of passion. walking un-adulterated. flaunting herself. inviting to explore..and how, i so long to touch her face. inhale her deeply. hear her speak in arabic and i, whisper to her about this thought that went up my mind.

instead, repeatedly, i see her pass me by and i quickly dart my eyes away. lest in the light, she sees the fire. i'm rather cowardly, you see.

i could write about how motherhood stirs my yoni. welcoming a thought of conceiving. bringing forth. be part of a process larger than self. yet, the question lingers though. of what, im not too sure. and i see children everywhere. baby showers. pregnant women. women getting married. women wanting to get married. and i wrapping my love, deeply satiated with the comings of my beloved..dreaming of creating a being made tangible of this love.

can one be a mother without a child?

i could write of how one is never really over crossing over to the other side. how even the tinnest of things like the threatening heat that threatens to dry up everything in sight. my spirit sways with the cooling winds of the oceanic breeze. and how home, even though tied to the cradle of man-kind, no longer feels like home.


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