in procress – ebb and flow

Ebb and flow

Remember there is
beauty in roundness
and bounty

in a body
that has been indulged,
that has produced life.

The forest does not fast
the ocean would not turn away
a child who is hungry

there is space enough and all are welcome.

I am a record keeper,
a memory keeper
with no memory.

So I try to record
in ink and silver
and hunks of bone

But chances of success
are slim.

So we mend what we can
and let go of what we can’t

and for God’s sake stop buying
to try to fill the void.

I dream
but cling so tightly
to what’s real, always
so afraid to lose my

I believe in plenty
but I am not good
at sharing.

I crave stillness
but I am not still.

I am the ebb and the flow.

I breathe deep
and teach my daughter
to do the same.

Her frustration
is hard for me to bear,
but I bear it.

I change
though I constantly
resist changing.

I do not wait to use what is cherished
I do not wait
I dive in

I am the optimist
who will not die,
who cannot sleep.

I want to be light
But the heaviness

The need to soften
is a pattern
repeated a
million times
in my weaving.



I am horrid
and resentful
and selfishly
want my time
and energy
and body
for myself.

She says to claim what is mine.
To take it for myself.
To own it.

But how can I claim what is mine?
How can I deny those I love?

A claim for myself must mean
someone else is left wanting –

Why is it so hard to believe that there is somehow enough to go around?

One day maybe I will evolve
into a person who softens.

When I am this selfish version
of myself (mother, wife, daughter, friend),
I feel quite terrible,

and immediately look
at the smiling face
of my child

and I feel a bit better.