Grandmother’s Rib

Oh daughter of my daughter
a story’s long been told
that your body–sacred body
by Grandfather was made whole.

A lie it is
and always was
though history shrouded this because
from our bodies come all men
and to our body they return again.

There’s power here
oh yes indeed
but stolen and twisted stories
have turned man
towards lies and greed.

Maybe our silence once
saved the day
but now our silence
does our hearts betray
and from truth
we mustn’t walk away.

Every body
He and She
and all the others dear
come from one body–
to be cherished and loved
instead of pillaged and feared.

The time has come
to excavate the bones
buried under those darkest creeds:
Creeds of possession
Creeds of greed

Creeds of ownership
the fabric of our precious world
Is threadbare and about to rip.

So, needles Dears
with threads of gold
we’ll do what we’ve always done-
reweave the stories
and mend the tears
bone needles and grief aflow
we’ll walk the path
and relearn the maps
that remind us where to go…

Yes, we’ve been lost
and whoa, still are
but the map is held in our bones
we can remember and the time is here
to reclaim what we know
and honor Grandmother ‘s bone.

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