The presence of you makes me whole
As you stroke your clay skin, Your profile like an earth mother's. Your daughter with the long limbs that stretch across a desert Calls to you from the outside in words I do not understand, Yet in a tongue that all of us know and find solace in, Like the reassurances of the ivory-skinned mother to her two chalk-haired girls That this bench will do fine, the top bench is too warm, Yes, too warm dear ones, Do you think so mother? Oh yes I do, dear one, I do. A young boy scans the landscape of female forms, Of grandmothers, mothers and sisters who remind him Of something ancient beyond living memory that has no explanation. Shapes, forms, tones, sounds, moving, waiting, whispering As the steam rises and our healing brings balance to the universe In this space from which we are all born. Since the 13th century the sauna in Scandinavia has been a sacrosanct place where the peace may not be broken.
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August 2024
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