Finding Her Here

It’s late. I am just now sitting down to start a marathon writing session on Chapter Two of my research proposal, which, disappointingly, has not decided to write itself in the past three days while I was working. Naturally, such a dismal use of one’s friday night (not to mention the mountains of work I’ve got to get done in the next few weeks) calls for inspirational poetry! Tally ho!

Finding Her Here

I am becoming
the woman I’ve wanted,
grey at the temples,
soft body, delighted,
cracked up by life
with a laugh that’s
known bitter
but, past it, got better,
knows she’s a survivor—
that whatever comes,
she can outlast it.
I am becoming a deep
weathered basket.

I am becoming the woman
I’ve longed for,
the motherly lover
with arms strong and tender,
the growing up daughter
who blushes surprises.
I am becoming full moons
and sunrises.

I find her becoming,
this woman I’ve wanted,
who knows she’ll encompass,
who knows she’s sufficient,
who knows where she’s going
and travels with passion.
Who remembers she’s precious,
but knows she’s not scarce—
who knows she is plenty,
plenty to share.

—Jayne Relaford Brown

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