Like deeply planted oaks, the women once dwelled together in peace,
Their feet covered with nourishing soil and arms outstretched,
Branches of flesh to connect with the living air.
Like laughing leaves swooping in the sky,
The women once jubilantly soared as one
Above the skin of the Earth.
As a young child, I dreamt that if I stood very straight,
Tensed all my muscles and closed my eyes,
I would slowly rise into the air a few inches,
Propel myself with my arms wherever I wished to go,
Then land again as gently as a rose petal on the wind.
But the only time I tried to ascend even a breath’s measure,
I failed, landbound, unsure and giftless.
Imagine my delight when I discovered that witches once
Rode on brooms to song and dance-filled forest jamborees,
Inanna soared like a condor over Sumer spotting evildoers and restoring justice,
Holy Cailleachs metamorphosed into fierce and noisy owls
Peering through the night’s blackness to see truth below.
Goddesses and spirit beings from all over the globe
Crowded the clouds with no thought of gravity’s imprisonment.
These sacred beings were not escaping our planet’s surface,
Seeking purity and glory in a heavenly realm
Beyond sinful chaos on the ground.
They knew that life on Earth is honeysweet magic and that
Stone cold cellular walls dividing us
From winged beings are gossamer illusion.
I have heard that many women as children
Believed the sky was their birthright.
Maybe we all kept our conviction silent
For fear of remembering when nothing held us down.
But I think our ancestors willingly sacrificed their wings
Aware that the times ahead would be hard and
For now we must lay down on Earth’s breast
To be infused with Her strength and love
So that we can do all that we must do.
Still, we forgot that we can fly without our feet leaving
Earth’s rich, fertile, fragrant soil.
We have power in our minds and souls to take wing above
Our small patch of space and time,
To see the world and eternity
As a wholeness of fragility, beauty, and faith.
To exuberantly dance into being lives worth living
Standing together on this ambrosial, tender Earth.
Carolyn, You have outdone yourself this time. I think this poem is exquisite. It speaks to our time and the need “remember. But remember. Make an effort to remember. Or, failing that, invent.” (as Monique Wittig wrote so presciently in _Les Guerrileres_ years ago. Thank you for these words. They will inspire me in my writing in the weeks to come.
Thank you, Nancy! This means so much to me!