To Be Of Mixed Blood Is A

Women Are Strong, Strong, Terribly Strong. We Don't Know How Strong Until We Are Pushing Out Our Babies. We Are Too Often Treated Like Babies Having Babies When We Should Be In Training, Like Acolytes, Novices To High Priestesshood, Like Serious Applicants For The Space Program.

I Knew Each Person's Delusion, The Places Their Records Had Scratched, Where The Sounds Repeated.

To Sew Is To Pray. Men Don't Understand This. They See The Whole But They Don't See The Stitches. They Don't See The Speech Of The Creator In The Work Of The Needle. We Mend. We Women Turn Things Inside Out And Set Things Right. We Salvage What We Can Of Human Garments And Piece The Rest Into Blankets. Sometimes Our Stitches Stutter And Slow. Only A Woman's Eyes Can Tell. Other Times, The Tension In The Stitches Might Be Too Tight Because Of Tears, But Only We Know What Emotion Went Into The Making. Only Women Can Hear The Prayer.

The Universe Is Transformation.

In Our Own Beginnings, We Are Formed Out Of The Body's Interior Landscape. For A Short While, Our Mothers' Bodies Are The Boundaries And Personal Geography Which Are All That We Know Of The World...once We No Longer Live Beneath Our Mother's Heart, It Is The Earth With Which We Form The Same Dependent Relationship, Relying...on Its Cycles And Elements, Helpless Without Its Protective Embrace.