In a Letter to My Sister
I Describe Paradise

In Paradise,
I say,
I become a nun
or a Great Blue Heron
standing tall and alone,
no man in my bed
or in my field of vision
to distract me from seeing
to the center of a soul
who has lived enough times
to count.

In Paradise,
I say to my sister,
there are no geometry classes
where the basketball coach
taught us we didn’t count,
those of us with long braids
down our backs
and the shapes turn to panic
like the trip down a cylinder,
dark inside to the womb,
where someone declares us well,
or not.
Where some man decides when and how often
is enough,
like washing sheets and towels,
like polishing silver, washing the car,
like taking out the trash.

Finding Paradise,
I say to my sister in this letter,
takes desperate measures
for women like us
who must find our own Exodus
out of the endings of a journey
that make us wander in circles
with the words
“An Act of Faith”
in plain site of “Truth”
and freedom.
We must say goodbye to our chatty friend, Disappointment,
so that we may find our hero, Courage.

In Paradise,
I say to my sister again,
I become a Great Blue Heron
with my keen black eye on a flashy fish of pleasure
and wait patiently in my own expansive waters of time
and strike precisely at moonrise,
tip my head back and let joy enter often
taking cool midnight flight
to my solitary nest
satisfied at the knowledge of hunger
finally filled.

Walking Meditation Near the Ocean

Quietly I walk the sand
near an ocean of salty illusion.
The mist stings my open wounded self
as the wind whips the surface
into nauseous waves of this morning’s exhausted dialogue
about nothing more than ego
and unimportant tasks I wish to case into this big water--
lose in this terrible tide.

The undertow is strong here
and the warning signs caution against swimming alone.
All along the coast I watch others risk everything
to swim out into deeper water to find freedom
or lose themselves in a struggle worth fighting.

The waters bite cold at my toes and heels making bones ache
for something warmer, even inviting, to dive into,
slip naked skin smoothly through soothing waters and light
so a woman can see the bottom clearly.

Even the strongest swimmers grow tired and need a place to float
with her eyes cast toward the heavens and allow her arms and legs
and the center of her spirit to rest.

From these clear waters I can wade to the edge
to the place where earth and ocean meet.
Here I will find my sister stars, admire their courage,
before returning them to the safety of Neptune’s kingdom.
Perhaps here I will find my twin
who decisively case off this body so long ago into uncharted waters
hoping to find a companion—out past the reef of another broken heart.

The same hurts have duplicated themselves in these new limbs,
the spikes sharper, more to lose.
I beg a stranger to walk heavily on my fragile frame
and crush the part of me afraid to let go of the shadows.
Release me, fractured,
allowing the eye of wisdom to regenerate
only the embers of truth
into a brilliant heart
ready again
to love.