I am in and out of hope and doubt, under the sun and moon. . .the craggy old women I turn to for refuge and strength,
cover themselves so I cannot find them and unveil their daughters days later. . .I am glad I continue to hold on though I don't know what is really in my hands.
Sunday a child is born bringing new joy to my family. The most beautiful girl. . .her lips are like mine. Her cry makes my heart sing and my hands to fly and gently comfort her. How I wish she were mine. She is named for love and the moon.
beyond the doors a child laughs. on the street a man sleeps. I am no longer comfortable with the patterns of my own life. I just want to hang from ribbons. . .the trapeze bruises my knees. But how wonderful it feels to be suspended from the hips and legs posed and rearranged. As my back is arched and my eyes are closed I am in pure ecstasy. Everything is perfect in the lyra. Spin me and shake me from the cocoon! I want to run with horses and raise a goat.
