sage

untitled

I remember the lack of trust 
Of a an older white woman midwife telling me my body wasn’t ready and not believing me 
How could she know what I am feeling inside?
I remember the concept of pain and aching
The rocking back in forth on the couch
The hot black leather on my skin, heated by the sun
The revolting taste of castor oil yet trusting that the ancestors knew this was the way
I remember talking to my belly and begging her to come out
That I needed her today
That I needed to get in that water in the basement
That there was no other way
That I would make a way
That I needed in it a way I had never needed anything else
That my body knew more than my brain
That I was born for this

I don’t remember the actual pain. I don’t remember what pain feels like I am a grateful for that. It is what allowed me to give birth again, this helpful un-memory
This embodied ancient feminine forgetting so we could do the divine again. 
I don’t remember how I actually pushed or got through it, from the bed to the tub. I don’t know how the sounds came out my body, so loud and grown and mammal like in their knowing and wisdom. 
I don’t remember how I got into that position, like I was made for it and I have never felt so powerful. I don’t remember how I got to this place of confidence and power. I want to return there often. I want to be that woman when I am not naked. I want to channel her on the daily and step into her power.