Birthing Waters
A gaping cavern fills the center of my being with emptiness-
Empty torso, empty womb, empty heart.
Arms raised, beseeching, reaching around the darkness.
It is darkness that gives birth.
But the only birthing-fluids I have to offer are hot tears.
Falling, silently resounding in that empty space,
One after another after another they hover, cling, drop.
Little by little stalagmites climb.
Stalactites reach down into the blackness.
Residue of tears, turned to stone-the birth of *something*.
Stone towers support the cavern, fill the empty space.
I become stronger.
That which supports me is born within, is born of me.
The minerals of the pillars are the salts of my own body.
The strength which fills the space is my own.
Stone pillars leave no room for new explorers.
Stone pillars cast shadows that resemble prison bars.
But there will be no shadows at all until I can again gaze upon the sun, the moon.
For now, solitary darkness is a place of healing, of creating strength, of birthing.
For now, stone bars across my soul offer sanctuary, not limitation.
For now, I sit alone in the darkness, and give birth in solitude, and it is enough.
I build my strength from the flowing of my tears.
The stone pillars themselves give shelter
To the tiny flickering light that remains of hope for the future,
That dreams, and will not die.
Someday that tiny spark will be able to flare into fury,
And the fires of my soul will again spread light that I and others may see by.
Someday it will sear the stone that contains it, and together Fire and Earth will be even stronger.
But for now, it is enough that Earth shields the Fire from the winds and waves that might toss it.
For now, I sit quietly, and give birth,
Lying in the moisture of silent tears,
Secure within the growing of stone pillars.
1999
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E-mail me at Weavre_@hotmail.com.