Winter has come.
Perhaps there is enough wood but perhaps
There is a journey to be made
The barrenness sings of it’s fruit,
Whistling under it’s breath
The cold nips and plays like a puppy around my face.
A small fire is burning on the hearth.
Day after day I gather sticks from under the snow
Running as fast as I can
Trying to pile them high enough
To grow this little dragon belly
I am helping my mother
Bring spring to these hearts
We women work in darkness
Our faith is our only possession
And from it we feed the world
Like an invisible breast
Keeping milk dribbling down the world’s cheeks
I have left behind the strength of summer’s fire
Content to weave life out of my weakness
To put my body down at the feet of darkness
To set my heart before the abyss
To work
And wait
The Eye of the Needle 