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Dienstag, 26. März 2013

Finding Her Here

I am becoming
the woman I’ve wanted,
grey at the temples,
soft body, delighted,
cracked up by life
with a laugh that’s
known bitter
but, past it, got better,
knows she’s a survivor­
that whatever comes,
she can outlast it.
I am becoming a deep
weathered basket.

I am becoming the woman
I’ve longed for,
the motherly lover
with arms strong and tender,
the growing up daughter
who blushes surprises.
I am becoming full moons
and sunrises.
I find her becoming,
this woman I’ve wanted,
who knows she’ll encompass,
who knows she’s sufficient,
knows where she’s going
and travels with passion.
Who remembers she’s precious,
but knows she’s not scarce­
who knows she is plenty,
plenty to share.

(Jayne Relaford Brown)


I am a wild woman
I know, inspite of myself
and in spite of what I've been told
that there's beauty in every age
no matter how old

I am a wild woman
I've learned what it means to be a life bearer
to bear children
to create art
to plant seeds of love

I am a wild woman
from the depths of the dirt underneath my fingernails
to the height of my very soul
I am one with the Earth
the winds from the four directions whisper through my skin

I am a wild woman
and the spirit of every wild woman coalesces in me
for we are each wild women
and we are all the spirit of the wild woman
I will follow the voice in my heart

I am a wild woman
I sing from my heart
I dance with the stars
I howl at the moon
I love uncontrollably

I am a wild woman
from the deepest, darkest, most sacred part of me
I am fearless
I cry in strength
I open my arms to the sky and welcome the rain

I am a wild woman
I nurture, love and protect
I stand, strongly, silently, sweetly for my brothers
I walk dutifully, prayerfully, joyfully upon the mother
and I will not be stopped

I am a wild woman.

(Melissa Clary)

Lied

In uns sind alle Leidenschaften
und alle Laster
und alle Sonnen und Sterne,
Abgründe und Höhen,
Bäume, Tiere, Wälder, Ströme.
Das sind wir.
Wir erleben
in unseren Adern,
in unseren Nerven.
Wir taumeln.
Brennend
zwischen grauen Blöcken Häuser.
Auf Brücken aus Stahl.
Licht aus tausend Röhren
umfließt uns,
und tausend violette Nächte
ätzen scharfe Falten
in unsere Gesichter.

(George Grosz)