Death

I have seen my death and it is water.  It has spent a
lifetime coaxing me into its company so I will not
be afraid when it comes for me that final time. Or
maybe I am the one who seeks the water knowing
I will need to eventually make my peace with it.

When I was very young I fell head first into a tub
of water. Mother pulled me out, panicked, unsure
how long I'd been under. I only felt its warmth, and
heard it whisper to me. "I will come back for you."

I once had an accident on the water, hitting it so hard
I almost passed out.  When I was pulled from the lake,
bright red blood ran rivers down my wet legs.  And the
water whispered to me, "I am yours and you are mine."

There are times when I have sought out water, waves of
warmth and relaxation soaking deep into my muscles.
I can feel knots untwisting like tentacles letting go of
prey.  The water whispered, "You love me, don't you?"

I have sat, my belly nine months swollen as water pulsed
across it, washing away the waves of pain, down the 
drain, letting me float away to a different time and place.
The water whispered to me, "Come with me this time."

There are times water has invaded my body, going to
places it has no right to be, so we struggle against each
other as my lungs fill.  I cough against the fluids; water
simply reminds me, "This is how I will come for you."

Pieces of My Heart

I am so hungry my hands shake. My stomach is knotted as I drive.
I am angry I have no food with me, angry at the drivers in my way.

I lift one hand from the steering wheel to see how badly it shakes
from my hunger. Then I wonder why I do this to myself.  As if I
need a reminder of growing up when there was not enough money
for groceries and my mother sat at her desk crying, wondering how
she would pay the monthly bills.  A reminder of having to eat the
awful school lunches because my dad was unemployed and we
got them for free.  We choked down the canned green beans and
mystery meats because we were hungry. We also got teased. We
were the only ones at our table to eat lunch on a tray.  People knew.

And now people comment how fast I eat which makes me feel
ashamed.  They do not know when I was growing up sometimes
there was not a lot of food on the table.  We had small portions
and if there were seconds they were only for the first ones done. 
Even when I have enough, I forget to slow down when I eat. 
But I do not comment on what folks are eating or how they are
eating it,  other than to say it looks good.  You just never know.

More important than the food in my belly are seven hungers
that haunt me, call to me like sirens.  I search among sacred
rocks, waters and trees in hope feeding the fires that burn in
both body and soul.  Walking among the jagged rocks, I cup

my hands in spring-fed waters, raise them up to a sun that
filters through ancient trees.  I watch droplets run down my
arms, creating streams on my skin, rivers on my body.  I

gather stars, daring not to drop them as I search for my heart.

I. Color

I hunger for color in the winds of autumn, in the music of
a spreading morning and in the touch of a pine tree silent
with snow.  I hunger for color in your warmest kisses,
In the breath of lilacs, in the sound of unguarded laughter.

II. Journey

I hunger for the road, this one beneath my feet and the
one beyond my sight.  To be moving, going,

III. Remembrance

I hunger for those who came before me, their story that
is my story.  That in knowing them, I will know myself.

IV. Touch

 

I hunger for the warmth of your body against mine, of my

baby's fingers entwined with mine, your hugs hello and goodbye.

V. Creation

 

I hunger for the words to spill, the colors to drip, the notes to fall.

VI. Belonging

 

I hunger for my sense of place, these places that call me home.

VII. Word

I hunger for the poetry of the soul, the stories within.

Gutted

I have been gutted

This child no longer
In my womb, heart
Beating with mine

I have been gutted

My lungs heave,
Your words burn
Angry in my chest

This rock, heavy in

My stomach, leaves
Me unable to cry
I have been gutted