On That Same Fifth Day
(der. from “Pledge Allegiance” by Natalie Scenters-Zapico and “On the Fifth Day” by Jane Hirshfield)
When they dredged the dead river, some were surprised by what they found.
Some were not.
A mother’s left ear.
Seeds that slipped off the drawbridge as it parted
to let slave ships and cruise ships through
and through again.
Seeds whose coats had become so hardened
they were unable to receive Mama Earth in the black-blue deep.
It is time to summon all the Mothers
to pockets on fire
and purses filled with tears.
Then it will be time to sit at their feet,
Black Madonnas all,
ask for the stories of ash.
First. Cover all your years of self in it.
Second. Eat it like charcoal to treat your overdose.
The Ash is an ancient tree
whose seeds begin dormant
who germinate only when we tend them in gathered silence
dropped down to our knees.
You are a tender.
You are a seed.
This will happen on the Fifth Day.
- Coke Tani, 01.28.25
Living in reverse
Gone now, is a kind of expansiveness and ambition that filled my earlier life.
Gone now, the exuberance of youth with its infinite possibilities.
Gone now, the fresh enthusiasm of my young body.
Now I find a new kind of personal expansiveness that I wear more lightly than years ago. Content in my own skin, I can feel myself identifying with timeless truths; like the wisdom of water as it moves, like the power in being content with who I am, and facing the world without undo aversion or clinging.
Now, as choices narrow, I find pleasure in being limited, allowing me to focus on the few things that really matter.
Now, as my bodies abilities decline(slowly, please) I find joy in slowing down and passing along some of the lessons learned to my child and to all the children of this world.
10.01.2024