I love the memory of untying my red silk scarf on the side of the highway
In the middle of the night.
Jewelry fell from it like glittering confetti twinkling in the dark.
They scattered down the grassy ditch alongside the dew drops
Which were far more priceless.
As I drove, I can feel the memories flying out of the open window
Like a road map I once so desperately needed
in order to find my way around.
I once thought Love meant a constant aching need.
To be accepted. To be praised. To be valued.
I was wrong.
I once thought that anger meant passion
and passion meant pain.
Nascence fills my throat and wells into my eyes.
my hands grip the leather wheel and I exhale
and I scream so loud...
I am not sure if it's a cry of joy or sorrow.
But maybe a little bit of both.
Fireflies trail my Volvo.
They know I am on my way to something miraculous.
I am a Woman.
This occurs to me.
A woman Without a map.
Warm ,exhausted and determined.
But the world is Rich with harvest.
The scarf no longer hides my face.
It adorns it.
Face....
I have one.
Voice....
I have one too.
This is enough for me.
A smile spreads across my berry mouth.
I am full and ripe and blush
Broad and grand and flush.
Throbbing electric glow.
With a fearsome wing span.
I will make it. I will grow.
Towards the city without a plan.
To dip my toes in a freedom
of tomorrow.
This is what I vowed.
Baleen for the Rainy days
and Silver paint for the clouds.
