Our Daily Bread
Our Daily Bread
Flour, yeast,and milk,a bit of butter too,
and giving it a little time to rise,
into a loaf, it grew..
From this mass of sticky flour
will come warm, pillow soft bread.
My body continues its weary work,
as thoughts float through my head.
Looking out my window,
I see the vast blue skies,
my heart fills up with longing…
like dough, perhaps I'll rise.
My arms will grow soft feathers,
my bones all hollow out…
giving me what I will need
to fly and float about.
Freedom from the daily drudge,
from burdens and all my cares…
I'll flap my newly made wings
and fly away from there.
Out this very window,
into the skies I see…
over the distant mountain tops
to some other mountain peaks.
Perhaps a place where I could find
A peaceful people who…
give high value to a woman's mind,
and all that women do.
We sisters of the uterus,
we captives of the Moon,
we who bleed to create life,
Soldiers in stiletto shoes…
carry more than our fair share
of heavy burdens and the blame…
our bodies are seductive
and so, steeped in shame.
These anchors bound to my arms
And binding ties, severed,
when bone turns to hollow straw
and skin sprouts supple feathers.
Then I'll rise like yeasty dough
and bake in the oven of the sun.
I hear the ding of alarm bells ring
telling me my bread is done.
Copyright ©
Crystol Woods
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