9 months ago


The Mystique of

The Mystique of Menopause Virgo to Libra September sun seems anxious to descend but I disdain the need for any lamp. Instead I move in barefoot dance across the darkened floor, keep the rhythm of the waltz by chasing prints of elfin feet that still engrain the wood. I follow fairy fossils traced on summer sand, scramble up the face of Fall and grab the silence in the hall as ballast for my womb.

I hollow out some sacred space within the nick of time, where walls are primed to hold the rage and doors are shoulders for the grief, where every bed is neatly made. . . . . . An autumn heart is hung with luscious fruit, with gourds and herbs above the reach of youth. So eat the seeds of ancient myths and drink the passion fruit of Eden, but hoard the harvest you have gleaned from fields of women’s wisdom.

Spring Ezine_02_20