When chemo
sends my pubic hair
flowing down
the drain,
some grieving
comes in,
until I learn
that now I have
a Brazilian bikini wax,
without the
expense, or pain -
well, maybe a
little pain,
but nothing to
equal a bikini wax - ouch!!
So, what does
this mean, for me?
Bread and Wine
-
Milk and Honey
-
Bread is the
physical realm,
Wine the
spiritual.
Milk is life
force, chi,
and Honey is
soul,
Soul evolving
like rich, golden swirls,
made from the
gathering of pollen,
and buzzing lives
of
bees.
I am all smiles
today. Blessed are the
meek.
Everything
seems funny,
enchanted.
Yesterday I
learned that the princess in fairy tales
stands for the
soul,
for yearning,
longing, a place to fill.
The princess is
that cauldron we stir,
and right now,
mine is filled
with smiling frogs,
toads and newts,
cavorting in a
hot tub,
with a jubilant
kicking of chorus girl legs
and softened claws
-
death may draw
us in,
and it does.
It draws us
enthusiastically,
like life.
Tapped syrup pours
from trees.
Honey drips
from hives.
We dive from
air to liquid,
and back again.
Meek means pure
of soul.
Pure of soul
pure
of soul -
honey caught
in the tangle,
of vines -