I move my womanly body- sway my hips, shake my coccyx
‘I’m dancing like a little girl’ I judge myself half-jokingly
I once again feel like that terrified child- the skinny, shy girl of my youth. I tell myself that I am safe now, even if I don’t believe it
Back in the now; I am a full-grown woman in the prime of her life, albeit a late bloomer
Practicing gentle loving-kindness towards self, cultivating vibrancy
My uterus is a powerful creative cauldron, and I’m due to brew up something magical
In a flash I am an elder, a medicine woman with a wrinkle on her face for each hard-won ripple of wisdom
Knitting in a rocking chair on my porch, with a subtle smile and a twinkle in my eye
Though I do not yet have a rocking chair, nor do I know how to knit
Perhaps I should learn how to knit
No- I knit words instead of wool
Though what I want to impart to future generations is beyond words
I do not know if my body will live to the elder age of my imagined older self
Lord, let me not take my life or health for granted
Lord, be with the hurting children
May they survive their childhoods to heal themselves and serve as beacons of hope for the hurting
We are all hurting
I embody hurting and healing in my womanly body
