Perhaps we are all wild plums
in this now.
Doggedly taking root,
despite stones
and storms.
Making our way
along rough, uneven edges
and slipping quietly
into spaces left behind
where the sun shines
just right
and the wind blows
just so.
Lifting our petals to the sun
or stooping under raindrops,
yet still raising these small fists
of our resistance,
our stubborn joys
held high and delicate
beneath a broad sky.
This poem is from my book In the Temple of the Ordinary. Available in Kindle and Print editions.
I’ll also be the In Her Own Words guest speaker on April 21st at WomanSpirit Reclamation. Registration is free!
