Sisters
I have danced
in the womb
in the soft red
womb of earth
I have entered the circle
I have been renewed
My belly is filled
I shall green
I shall go forth over this red land
I shall eat
I shall enter her daughters
My children will be born
to honour
for I have danced
in the womb
in the soft red womb
These are my sisters
namegivers
walkers
my sisters gave names
to the birds
to the snake
to all running things
and to all things
that crawl on the red earth
My sisters threw spears
and the food that they ate
was named
and made sacred
They dug earth
and named roots
and roots
that they ate
and made sacred
I walk in their footsteps
I walk in the footsteps of my sisters
I walk
I am filled
(This was written long ago and I know some of you have seen it but I think it tells just how I feel about the
place in which we dwell. Fran)
posted by Fran @ 4:43 AM
3 comments
The 
3 Comments:
This verse names the place in which we dwell most beautifully Fran. Rather than dancing, for the moment, I am content to lie, in foetal postion within the earth's womb.
I am placing this poem here too Fran because it was, when all is said and done, my response to your verse.
Underneath the thrice ploughed, fertile, fallow field
Impregnated within a wintered, woven, womb
Of richly composted humus
I lay seeking sustenance, nourishment from
The oxygen filled wintered mist that
Drizzles, seeping, replenishing the amniotic fluids
That trickles through the membranous umbilical cord
Fertilizing, greening,
Ensuring a bountiful spring harvest.
May you indeed find nourishment, dearest Heather, the comfort of the land that is and all that seeks you in the wind. Fran
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