Pearls, butterflies, and uglies – we all got them, we all want them

I cried and cried to keep those uglies in my treasure chest, “They’re mine!” I’d say.

And then I’d see them in someone else’s box, and how ugly they really were, and I’d say, “Ew, get those uglies out of me!”
—–
I’d sit up in my treehouse day and night thinking up all the beautiful butterflies and pearls I’d decorate my house with.

And then I learned butterflies come from caterpillars and pearls come from oysters and my dear, they can take AGES and AGES to pop out, and you’ve got to TOIL and WAIT. And I’d say, “You mean I have to grow flowers for them to eat and survive and flourish? Oh no, oh no, those aren’t for me. Pearls and butterflies? They’re too much work! And butterflies, they’re so vulnerable and delicate!”
——
But that’s the thing, you never know when they’re going to pop out, but they do, every time, like a charm. You just wait and see, MY GEM.

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instructions: hand-wash

The washing machine did not come into

work this week

We thought it’d be an unraveling,

an undone

bundle on our shoulders

instead

it was a seam in solidarity

with women of past and present

a string pulling us back in time and across the globe –

however small of a tug a week of experience can muster

slipping out of mind

and into hands for

soap

water &

escaping pockets of air in

the wringing of crisscrossed fibers,

We thought only machine could do

this. Did we forget about before

machine? When we were merely

human at the stream.

The strength of our hands, women we are

crisscrossed souls

in the fabric of existence.

A cord of three is stronger than one.

An interweaving of queen, infinite is

the strength spooled through

generation and place knit into a powerful

shawl for all occasions.

titanic

a deep that threatens to crumble within

we are but icebergs in the sea

giant frozen stars in the universe

crystals. light. crunch. freeze.

melt. heart. pump. freeze.

the fabric of the universe ripples in silent empathy,

saying, “me too.”

the oceans mirror in their wake

our eyes sweep the universe collecting stars in our pockets for a rainy day.

light. crunch. freeze.

they crackle in our plastic ponchos wishing for the comfort of giant knit mittens.

crinkled-lined-paper stars. embers. sun.

light… crunch… freeze.