
there is a cottage
at the edge
of the woods
in it lives a woman
a woman a woman,
more.
it lives in women
the cottage
at the edge
of the woods.
the herbs that hang from the rafters
bunches of mpephu and nettle
and tulsi, the roses that grow
a blood thorned tangle
swoon sweet and
spread on october cloths to dry,
the bottled elder turned
by the light of the moon.
it lives
lives in women
in the sun amongst the trees
held in the crescent arms of forest
is a garden – a sun bowl facing north.
in that garden we grow the food
mulch the soil, say the prayers.
in that garden we grow the food
in soil dark like the night –
the greens soft and fire
and crunch to nourish,
picked bowlsful and
fresh in the evening –
the plums full heavy
with the turning of years.
and of course we have danced here
(like really here – see this circle
where these four paths meet?)
barefeet slapping silk-mud
while she rose and rose in the sky
and of course we have wept here
salt tears for a thirsty earth
the empty rooms, the quiet deaths.
hit hard spades at a sun-scorched earth
learned again and again
that there is no unsaying these prayers
no holding onto anything
when you give yourself to it
completely
and of course we have laughed here
table slapping guffaws
clanging amongst the cutlery
with the light
and the light streaming in.
and of course we have planted trees here.
for our dead, for our living
for our food, for our prayers
their roots now entangling
with what was
what was.
their branches singing
songs of the sacred to the sky.
and of course we know
we are borrowed earth
that this body too will fade
like those before and those before
that we only become whole by healing
that by remembering the forest
as holy holy
we remember ourselves
wholly.
there is a cottage
at the edge
of the woods
in it lives a woman
a woman a woman,
more.
it lives in women
the cottage
at the edge
of the woods.
For Brendan at Earthweal’s weekly challenge: A MAP OF HISTORY’S MYSTERIES. Read his wonderful essay here. https://earthweal.com/2022/09/19/earthweal-weekly-challenge-historys-mysteries/
Beautiful
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Dankie boet 🙂
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You capture mystery so well
“that there is no unsaying these prayers
no holding onto anything
when you give yourself to it
completely”
So much of our world now is filled with incompleteness…
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Thanks Kerfe.
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I love this so much! A poem on place and womanhood. I especially love the tree branches singing songs of the sacred to the sky. The laughing, the dancing, i could see it, and wanted to be there.
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Thank you Sherry.
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A privileged and honored place, that cottage at the at the edge of woman and world. The title suggests it grounds all work.
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Thanks. Not quite where I thought I would go with the prompt. Perhaps i give it another go.
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Every spiritual map has a omphalos or sacred center — this poem locates it and all of a history revolves around it.
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You have captured of the mystery of woman and the woods so beautifully here.
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Thanks Suzanne. I hope you are well. Xx
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I love the cottage lives in women idea. Yes, quite mysterious but positive focus on women.
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Thank you. And thanks for reading.
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Lovely and perfect
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Li! One of the best things about spring is knowing you come home in summer. 💚
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this very much make me think of the oral history of poetry – the repetition grounding both speaker and listener into a common space. it reads to me like the beat of a drum in skilled hands. ~
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