August 12 Blog – Eve Survives the Fall

Morn

She was awakened
by the clanging of words,
like broken bells~
raging, ranting;
the truth of the Lie
smacking her square in the face.

I have heard that Thirty can do that to a girl-
turn her inside out,
and into a writhing, grimacing, screaming
Woman.
This, a tricky tightrope to walk
when your name is Mommy.

But walk it she did;
teetering, tottering, frittering away
the ordinary moments.
Divinity dictating dailiness.
Poems pulsing. Eros shut away
in some yet-unopened cupboard.

Kneeling nuns and gyrating gypsies
paused for tea and conversation
and conservation of energy and expectation,
mastering delayed gratification…
very much…delayed.

While waking from death is a difficult bit,
resurrection from the roused seems a redundant disaster~
happens faster by necessity, and clocks
ticking wildly.

I have heard Forty can do that to a woman;
turn her upside down, undoing
all she worked so hard to keep
tightly bound and silent.

It’s an enthralling fall to earth;
this giving birth to oneself midlife,
half-life, one’s own midwife.
The blood on your hands is a dead giveaway
that you are not indeed dead after all~

having survived the fall,
survived the fall.
Eve survives the fall
and is renamed,
Morn.

~Cheryl Anne

Our guest blogger is Cheryl Anne. She is a Poet, Spiritual Director of Sheltering Oak, and a founding member of Shekhinah Grove Women’s Circle.  An Imagine A Woman (IAW International) trainee and passionate advocate of Authenticity; she resides in the lovely town of Franklin, Tennessee.

Comments

  1. Rosemarie says:

    Thank you so much for sharing. I was moved to chills reading your poem! 40 is coming soon. I have been doing quite a bit of inner work and am looking forward to living fully in the moment as much as I can remember to! :)

  2. kagiso matebesi says:

    Amazing..very inspiring.Thank you.

  3. This is lovely. I have so longed for a poem that broached the “forty” years; being there myself, and in some disequilibrium about age…transitioning from mother to crone, trying to find validity in a world that increasingly shouts i have none. Thank you for your poem….it mirrors those of us “late awakeners” perfectly.

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