Monday, February 14, 2011

December 2, 2010

On Being an Average Woman, Alone

I sip spiced cider

with a friend

Thanksgiving day

and tell her how cold

the winter is, how hard

it is to feed myself, how I feel

the loss now

that I cut

off all my hair.

Her face is a quiet lake as I speak.

She cups everything in her hands

and whispers strange

wisdom- the kind

that makes no sense

and must be true.

She said her grandfather

often told his eldest daughter

“I want you to learn to conform

so that when you have to

it is your choice

not your curse.”

I imagine this parable is spoken

for me. Birthed into existence in this exact

moment so that the translation can echo

in my ears.

It’s okay to let the fields lay fallow.

To be dormant for a season.

To let the compost pile rest,

and enfold upon itself.

To come home from work,

eat dinner, do dishes, go to bed early.

Get up and do it

over again.

I don’t have to fear

being average




with myself.

My soul will not get sucked

into the TV and

it does not have to be done


or now.

I can practice the great mystery

of the season:



lay down

the restless striving

and know

When it is time

to grow-

I’ll grow.

The bulbs far underground

always know

the time

to get up.