we remember you, mother
embodied in our bodies
whose arms stretch to reach
your waxing and waning above,
as within us you rise
to flash silver under skin
this knowing is timeless
how the goddess in us speaks
through mouths so long closed
and how we allowed our lips
to be sewn shut,
and stopped teaching our daughters
the rhythms of the earth, your wisdom
it was love that threaded the needle
for his thicker fingers, love
that gave our silence
but was it love that rode over us
with wheels carrying new gods
and finally the God,
the one who suggested
that our heads be covered
in his house, or cut
the hair caressing rivers
over our backs,
a murmuring distraction
streaming over shoulders,
or braided in nets
to tangle and trap hands
longing to free that flow
was it love that burned us
yes, we tempt
yes, we distract
yes, our bodies are doorways
to pleasure and life
as is all flesh
is it love that stones us
perhaps
we live closer to matter,
matrix, substance
as we build and hold life in us;
but division here
is a lie, an exercise
of semantics
when we are all one thing
and joy in it
is it love that divides us
our children know it
before words,
and hold this knowing after language,
until we thread that needle
is it love that breaks us
tonight
we remember you
mother
in our bodies
with these voices
drawing you down from night
is it love that feeds us
taking you up
through feet pressed intimately
& deeply past growing things
and into stone, our roots
deeper and drinking
it is love that frees us
unlearning a lie
we knelt to, a lie
that covers heads,
closes eyes
and silences
remember
we threaded that needle
and ours are the hands
that must stop sewing
***this is an old, old, reworked poem from some 20 years ago. I removed some of the anger and added gentleness (I think). Posting it for dVerse open link–you need to post there, people–, because although it goes against my faith as I experience it now, I still think it has a few things to say that are worth hearing.
Susan Daniels Poetry 