Eve (A Poem for International Women’s Day)

*March is Women’s History Month, and tomorrow, March 8th, is International Women’s Day. I wrote a poem around this time last year – you can find it here – and so it felt right to post something this year, too. I hope you like it, and please be sure to take some time this month (especially tomorrow) to appreciate all of the amazing women in your life, past and present. I have many. They have my heart.*

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Eve

A story we’ve heard:
The first of us all
(to fall) –
help-meet and wife,
made and prized,
then punished,
removed and reviled.
The woman who
became a warning.

And history became
both judge and jury,
gave us no choice,
no voice.
The story became ours,
but it never belonged to us.
And before, and now,
down in our bones
we know it.

We know:
It is human to fall
and rise again,
to seek,
to learn,
to live in curiosity.
And so,
can we reclaim her,
weave her story anew
and see her,
this mother of mothers?

Blood of our blood –
can we finally love
(not blame)
her?

A Book, a Quote, and a Wish (One More for Women’s History Month)

I didn’t plan to write another post for Women’s History Month, but it seems the universe had other ideas, and here we are.

I’ve been working my way for the last few days through If Women Rose Rooted by Sharon Blackie.

(Cover image from Goodreads)

I’m not finished with it yet, so I can’t recommend it completely, but it is certainly making an impression. And there’s one quote from it, in particular, that I just can’t get out of my head:

We are wild creatures still, at heart, and if we listen to our hearts we will remember how to listen to the song of the fierce-beaked, wild-winged little wren who, hopping from tree to stump, shows us the way home. When we stop, when we let ourselves see, when the torn veil of this broken civilization lifts away from our eyes – we can find our way back home.

I’ve been thinking on this one for days – women as wild creatures, the unrelenting call of home, nature as a partner, and as something sacred, and the things, a million little things, that pull us as women away from ourselves.

The older I get, the more I notice. And the more I notice, the more determined I become to explore and discover my own magic, and to live in it and share it without shame or fear. And I suppose that’s my wish for all women, as we continue to make history – that we find our magic, that we let our magic shine, and that we leave a path for others to follow.

International Women’s Day 2021

I suppose the poem I posted last week for Women’s History Month would have been perfect for today, International Women’s Day. And honestly, I don’t really have much to add.

But I’ll say this:

I am grateful for the brave, strong, smart, powerful women who’ve made this world a better place for me and all of the women who will come after me.

In my life, I am thankful to be surrounded by women who build me up, who support me, who laugh and cry with me, who make my every day just a little brighter.

I am proud of them, and so, so happy to live in their light, in their radiance, in their love.

If they never change THE world (and they’re brilliant, so it wouldn’t surprise me if they did), I want them to know that they’ve changed MY world.

My friends, you incredible women, know that I love you, always, always, always.

And to the women out there reading this:

You are strong, brave, smart, creative, powerful, capable, and worthy. You have the right to take up space. You deserve love, kindness, respect, and a seat at every table. You are enough. You are fundamental.  The world is more whole because you are in it. Speak, stand, create change, move mountains, shine. Make your dreams real. I am with you, for you, and forever cheering you on.

To the Women Who Came Before (A Poem for Women’s History Month)

To you,
the women,
the warriors and weavers and
witches and wanderers,
the brave and bold
who came before,
I promise this:

My light will magnify your light.
I will shine because
you reached for the sky
and grabbed the sun and moon and stars
to fight the darkness.

Your words,
your courage,
your heart,
your home –
the one you made with your own hands –
will live on in me.

I will stand and speak.
My voice will carry as yours,
over the mountains you climbed,
across the sands of time
and the pillars and platforms you built.
I won’t make myself small
just to fit into the corners
of a world made and sustained
by mothers.

I cradle your wisdom in my soul
because you carved a place for it.
I will keep that place
sacred and whole.
I will nurture the fire you lit
and pass the eternal torch.