The spruce trees have been weeping water-pearls.
Two of my daughters had birthdays this week. At times like this, I remember the strenuous negotiations of the body, the ponderous processes of bringing a child into the world. The exertion required in becoming a refuge.
What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life? The world would split open.
-- Muriel Rukeyser
|A painting by Irene Hardwicke Olivieri|
Peering through the fog-curtains, and perceiving without seeing, I bless the children, and face the future that rushes toward us with its unknowable radiance.