hard bits and soft pieces,
bitter, sour, and sweet
places that have talked back
made me who I am,
made me ache from too much—
What we love, we love.
I have sipped from a cenote,
bitten a spur, savored fine strata
near the mouth of a river.
Swallowed decades of dust,
in the soul of an eon.
I have settled in a valley
between green hills. Given birth
to a daughter in a world of a billion
daughters. Given birth to two sons
in a world of a billion sons.
I have sun-dried my hands.
Rumi said there are a thousand ways
and kiss the ground.
I have lost count. I am counting.
— Sharon Tracey
, first appeared in Supporting Women Writers in Miami (SWWIM)
All poems, art, and photos are public domain, creative commons, or used by permission of author or publisher. Used by permission of Sharon Tracey. Photo by Mark Gunn, via Flickr.