birthmother

I have gone into the earth
brown
mud to its bones

below the winter rains
heart slow
skin cold
to sleep.


I have gone into the sky

ligament and feather
pulse pushing
body-shaped space
in the wind
spinning.


Into the wake of rivers

rusty green
runoff
weeping snowmelt
milfoil filling the
gap of fish.


No use.


I come here every year

marker
memory
sorrow
grieving

old remorse
familiar
as the rains 

release
release
release


~ sherri

"Once upon a time

when women were birds
there was the simple understanding
that to sing at dawn and to sing at dusk
was to heal the world through joy."

~Terry Tempest Williams