Dear woman, love your belly. Wrap yourself in handwoven dresses; let starwhispers linger in your ears. Don’t dismiss your wisdom just because it’s incomplete. You learned how to tend your fireglow soul; you know flames don’t always equal heat; you know coals need companions. Offer your sinking eyes benedictions, sing psalms to their crinkles. Let your throat court gravity in a slow burn romance. Consider: no one can define your capacity for beauty. Will you choose your own loveliness? Blow kisses to your reflection every day? Who will teach your children to write love letters to themselves, if not you?
Related Posts
I am not one thing. I can only be one thing at a time.
My first month off work didn’t have as much writing as I’d hoped. My time seemed to get nibbled by…
New memories for dark fields
Our family arrives in the field after dark. Though it isn’t really dark—a streetlight illuminates the alley, the sun hasn’t…
Too much becomes too much and where does it settle?
Where could we drive with sleep permeating the back seat? Driving was the point and not the point. Here is…