In this tribal dance of motherhood
the pattern of my breath, my own
secret places bring forth daughters. Wildly demanding
all of me and more,
they move from the fullness at my breast
to their rites of passage. Their flow
of blood and passion
seals with ceremony in my soul,
their place as other.
My ritual dance moves slowly as I,
to my singular rhythm.
And as my womb closes
with the changing seasons, I watch
my women begin