chickens and awesome poetry

so Mckay found the first eggs layed by the chickens. We put a light in their coop and it helped lengthen the days for them and sure enough they have started laying. Today Mckay told them that they sure are doing a good job laying eggs. It is so much fun to open the nesting box and get the eggs. Chickens like to eat snow. They are fun to watch. We have several passers-by who stop to watch the chickens on their walk through the alley. There are still 2 that haven't started laying yet, it wont be long though I'm sure.

I wanted to record some poetry that I wrote today. I have been working very pointedly to find a way to let my body grieve through its responses to the past. Ironically, today is the 32nd anniversary of one return from a time of critical mass. It is amazing that I am better able to navigate the journey of self awareness. This poetry expresses a tender awakening to that ability within me.

I listened to myself
I heard the cry
I felt the silence of the night
Wrap the sound up tight.
I could not stop the burglary
For I didn't know I owned.
I watched with saddened eyes
The stealing
And now
The silence is revealing,
Slowly loosening its treasures
Of the girl
I used to know.


Love,
Where are you now?
You look funny all wrinkled
From the crinkled way you lay
Hiding there,
Until I could come again
Older and wiser
Seeking
For the girl
I used to know.


I didn't speak in words
Muted sounds were all I made
Not hardly loud enough
For anyone to hear.
There would be no rescuers
That night,
Nor
The next.
I would
Come to speak in words
In very LOUD sounds
Hardly soft enough
For anyone not to hear.
Though many came to rescue
Showing brave and kind intent,
There would be no rescue
That night,
Nor
The next.
Not
Until
Silence--
With her knowing,
Nimble
Fingers
Release me
To
Myself


Mother! You
Are the silence
That surrounds me!
You are
Eternally
There!
You come
In winters snows
You come
In summers rain
You beckon me to listen
As your whispers
Ease the pain.

This poetry has opened the door to a way for me to grieve productively. I get chills reading it again. Behind these words a fountain of pure emotion has waited patiently for its release.