Mourning Dove

The third day

dawns under a cloud.

 Mourning doves

spread their wings

across leaden skies.

I am walking on air.

Two restless

nights – a huge

truck in the yard –


my stomach lurches.

I read Tributes

 in a daze.

Fierce Little Flower

Warrior Woman


 a torrent of waves.

She is bridging

 raging waters

forging a New Story.

“Weaving the Visions.”

Oh, now I remember

where it all


She hugged a tree.

 I plant a seed.

Listening to rounds of

 “ light and darkness”

 I let my body lead.

 A serpentine path

guides me

 back to

Her Garden.

Cradled by Ancestors

Rooted in Love

I shed my internalized

 patriarchal skin.

Postscript: Carol Christ died a few days ago and ever since I have been living in liminal space, grieving. Carol was a remarkable woman, a feminist scholar who understood that female embodiment was as necessary to women as breathing.

Learning to inhabit a body – becoming embodied – is no small task for any woman because we are taught from infancy that our bodies are the enemy. Our bodies carry our feelings, and embody our sexuality (for which we are shamed and blamed – we are never ‘good enough’). Our bodies carry Truth – helping us to navigate the dangerous waters of a patriarchal system of unequal power that is devouring women, men and nature. Living in our bodies helps us to have a more intimate relationship with the earth. In my case it was my relationships with animals plants and trees that have helped me throughout my life and continue to assist me today – helping me return to my body when I am pulled out of it against my will. Carol taught us that our Spirituality is a natural part of being female – Our spirits reside here on earth within these bodies of ours as well as without in earth and sky. We are part of All There Is.

I have been struck by the sea of mourning doves that have taken over my bird feeder since Carol’s death and I find myself wondering if she had a special relationship to these birds… Carol and doves seem to belong together.

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