Mar 1, 2020
II. women’s gathering
centuries of grandmothers look out through my eyes,
full of stories I mostly know
in dreaming
but some come forth in waking-
sharp moments that mirror their trauma
swinging the blunt sword of their animal rage
wait! to them I speak, too-
gentle tales exhumed from a box of stars
under the dresser
friendly feathers, candles, pictures
deafening letters of love
sentiments of long-dead days
can you hear, far-off grandmothers?
these are moments of longing and heartache
our indelible joy
I know. small tidings in their ancient hearts.
yet I hear them laughing, weeping, sighing
their bodies, my body
and they celebrate all the same.
© chantel camille roice
march 1st, 2020