What does the word migration mean to you? Is there something in your life that calls for migrating? Migration is movement from one part of something to another. Jean Shinoda Bolen, MD, included excerpts from the following poem in her book, Artemis The Indomitable Spirit in Everywoman.
The Perpetual Migration
How do we know where we are going?
How do we know where we are headed
till we in fact or hope or hunch
arrive? you can only criticize,
the comfortable say, you don’t know
what you want. Ah, but we do.
We have swung in the green verandas
of the jungle trees. We have squatted
on cloud-grey granite hillsides where
every leaf drips. We have crossed
badlands where the sun is sharp as flint.
We have padded into the tall dark sea
in canoes. We always knew.
Peace, plenty, the gentle wallow
of intimacy, a bit of Saturday night
and not too much Monday morning,
a chance to choose, a chance to grow,
the power to say no and yes, pretties
and dignity, an occasional jolt of truth.
The human brain, wrinkled slug, knows
like a computer, like a violinist, like
a bloodhound, like a frog. We remember
backwards a little and sometimes forwards,
but mostly we think in the ebbing circles
a rock makes on the water.
The salmon hurtling upstream seeks
the taste of the waters of its birth
but the seabird on its four-thousand-mile
trek follows charts mapped on its genes.
The brightness, the angle, the sighting
of the stars shines in the brain luring
till inner constellation matches outer.
The stark black rocks, the island beaches
of wave worn pebbles where it will winter
look right to it. Months after it set
forth it says, home at last, and settles.
Even the pigeon beating its short whistling
wings knows the magnetic tug of arrival.
In my spine a tidal clock tilts and drips
and the moon pulls blood from my womb.
Driven as a migrating falcon, I can be blown
off course yet if I turn back it feels
wrong. Navigating by chart and chance
and passion I will know the shape
of the mountains of freedom, I will know.
~Marge Piercy (The Moon Is Always Female, 1980)
Woman is made great in gentleness
“The Mirror”
The strength of a woman is carrying the burden of family without
When I started loving myself
When I started to love myself I understood how much it can offend somebody
When I started loving myself
I stopped longing for another life
When I started loving myself
When I started loving myself
I refused to live further in the past
When I started loving myself
We do not need to fear further discussions,
