This blog contains 1000 posts. Posting to Blogger with such a large archive has become unwieldy. Also, your blogista, who is sewing a kesa, is not writing much at present. She has ceased adding new posts. Still-active links are here.

Monday, December 31, 2012


A repost ... 

I had no sisters or brothers growing up -- a kindred spirit, but something more than a brother -- my first sisters were at the Brethren/Hutterite farm where I lived awhile in the early seventies. Sisterhood has come on strong of late, though. And last best.

She's written this poem, and I asked if I could share it here.
RememberWhen I am gone
Remember that once I laughed
Great gulping gasps
of delighted rollicking roars
of merriment
That once I delightedly ran over the
new spring grass
with tender bare feet
feeling each blade bend
beneath them -
and the sharp scent of green emitted
by each broken blade of grass.
That once I had skilled hands
that competently guided new life
to slide into the world with
great splashes of thick, slick water
streaked with the blood and mucus
of reality
and coaxed the first gurgling cry
of outraged life from that
small bit of humanity in my arms
That once I could seek and find
the secret positions and
hiding places of infants
as they floated within
their mothers
in their private seas
Remember that I wept huge bitter tears
over a marriage that faded into dust
within my surprised bosom -
and that my sobs were torn from
my most inner being
I had birthed babes and now knew
I was birthing dust
Remember that I mourned -
but remember that I went on
that I wore the black
but replaced it bit by bit
once more
with the colors of life and joy
When I am gone . . ..
that I lived.


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