poem: cutting greens
January just flew by and here I am sharing another poem to start off our month together. This month of beginning buds. Of St Brigid's Day. Of the warm soup on the stove. and importantly to me hopefully a reprieve from the heavy helping of viruses that continue to march through my household.
About a week ago in the midst of one of these viruses, I took a hot bath and read Mercy, by Lucille Clifton from cover to cover in one big gulp. To say it is beautiful wouldn’t even begin to touch that collections of poems…the cadence and familiarity shook me, reminding me of how what poems can do when applied at the right moment.
What a balm to be held in her words. May you all find yourself in the right words soon.
cutting greens
curling them around
i hold their bodies in obscene embrace
thinking of everything but kinship.
collards and kale
strain against each strange other
away from my kissmaking hand and
the iron bedpot.
the pot is black,
the cutting board is black,
my hand,
and just for a minute
the greens roll black under the knife,
and the kitchen twists dark on its spine
and I taste in my natural appetite
the bond of live things everywhere.
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Class releases are on hold for a while as other projects come to life! Get in touch if you’d like individual support on a project, with editing, or copywriting!
DATE CHANGE: For sometime to sit together and explore, come to a short talk and meditation we’ll do together. Being and Breathing happens February 7th , 5-6 pm Pacific Time. It is really wonderful to practice together and I look forward to seeing some of you there.