The Voice of the Oyster

The oyster says nothing
As she forms her pearl.
She keeps
And ponders in her heart
The secrets of her art,
The exultation of her creation.

Saying nothing (again),
When Man, pillaging, plucks the pearl,
Forcing apart her protection
Into a gaping, soundless scream,
Ripping her quiet masterpiece
From her center
With a hollow, animal shout of triumph,
With the slippery glee of violation rewarded.

Who asks the oyster,
“May I please have your pearl?”
Or
“What can I give you in exchange
For your essence, your core?”
Who asks the oyster anything?

She wouldn’t answer anyway, you know.
Not with words – words are for Man,
For the thief, the one with the knife
To prise open the secret,
Precious places.

But put away the blade, the insistence
And listen to the hush of the oyster.
A patient caress,
An appreciative ear,
And her resistant walls unfold.
Her armor opens willingly, shyly,
Mutely,
Almost.
Only a whisper,
A barely sound,
The breath of Life,
The murmur of a treasure
Offered.

Feminist's Confession

Feminist’s Confession

Bless me, Mother, for I have sinned:
It has been nine days since my last Confession.

By taking Pride in my feminism, I have ignored the problems of those who lack access to it.
By giving way to Envy, I have competed with my Sisters.
By Gluttonously taking more than my share, I have denied resources to those less fortunate.
By seeking to fulfill my Lust, I have slept with the enemy or encouraged the enmity of the enemy of my enemy.
By giving way to Anger, I have limited my human resources.
By Greedily seeking the material, I have denied my faith.
By my Sloth, I have left many tasks undone.

For my penance,
I will cultivate humility, and “in humility I will listen”.
I will focus on the Goal.
I will forgo privileges, that others may enjoy rights.
I will evaluate my reasoning and choices.
I will open my mind to others’ ideas.
I will ignore the worldly in favor of the world.
I will be my own motivation to work against the Right, for what is right.

In the name of the Mother, the Maiden, and the Crone,
Amen.

Blood and Milk

Blood and Milk

We learn from these bodies
What The Experts never will, and never can
Teach,
And wouldn’t if They could.

The interpretation’s open – literally – at both ends.
We learn from the courses, the oozes, the juices, the sluices and the streams
And the screams.

We know the trickles and the tickles and
Deluges and leaks.

Assaulted with stoppage – with pills and pads and plugs and Shame;
Stripped of our choices, like we’re stripped of our names;
Invaded by science, by popes and fathers and pumps and husbands –

Let it go – let it flow,
Let it feed.

It is right – it’s our birthright.

Claim the Produce; claim the Cause,
The creation, the undulation,
This Life-Stream that WE OWN.