In this moment,
I nod to the women of my past.
The women who raised me;
Who are a part of me;
Who are me.
In inhale deeply,
And exhale slowly.
I imagine spice in the air.
The spice and sense that binds us;
A common ground for us.
As the wind swirls the spice around me,
it becomes a smoke
Filled with passion.
It is filled with love and hate-
Emotions incarnate in my memory.
Thank you for making me.
Thank you for being me.
Thank you for leaving me be;
And letting me be me-
Different but having the same scent.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
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