Monday's poem and life lately




I missed the Dear Friday last week. There are not enough hours in the day. One child homeschooling, one virtual learning. Cooking and cleaning and laundry. Bugs to watch, sunsets to catch and every single spare moment stolen in paint.


Suitcases are out to head back to our island. I am pulled, once again, in two different directions. The ache for home has faded with time--at least for me--and I've settled very strongly into Kenya. But this expat life does not stand still and the packing must begin.

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Today's poem is by Joy Harjo, the first Native American Poet Laureate of the United States.


Fire


a woman can’t survive

by her own breath

alone

she must know

the voices of mountains

she must recognize

the foreverness of blue sky

she must flow

with the elusive

bodies

of night wind woman

who will take her into

her own self

look at me

i am not a separate woman

i am a continuance

of blue sky

i am the throat

of the sandia mountains

a night wind woman

who burns

with every breath

she takes.