Nomadic Women
Life was meant to be lived on flat roofs,
Holding hands and gazing through desert sunsets to the other
side of the world.
Praying and singing to bring in the nights, the season,
births and deaths;
Falling asleep to the murmur of loving voices in earnest
discussion.
Life was meant to be lived with bare feet
Finding joy in the reaching, the grounding, the hurting;
Losing ourselves in the lung-fire of exertion
And the tingle of moving hands and feet through air, water,
soil.
Life was meant to draw lines,
Time itself henna-ing our hands and decorating our faces
with marks of wisdom.
Losing ourselves to love, those cycles of beginnings and
endings;
Remembering the exhilaration of living, praying, singing.
Till, in the end, we fall asleep,
Then awake renewed,
To the
murmur of loving voices
In earnest discussion
