I Remember

I remember the night at writers group
when Ellen Stood Up,
 because she was so outraged 
over some local issue or other.
(I don't remember what it was.)
Her strength and fury and standing up
silenced us into awe and, ever after,
we remind each other:
"Remember the night when Ellen Stood Up?"

One other Tuesday night,
then 72 year old beloved Betty, 
raging granny of the blockades,
who had survived living with four husbands
and bearing eight children,
(two of whom succumbed to cancer as adults)
Came Out,
to our applause
and cheers and laughter. 

I remember the young woman
who wrote her pain all through that winter
about her mother's murder
by her father's hand
and what that had done
to her childhood,
to her heart,
to her life.
I remember her poem about 
dreaming of her mother
as a bird, a feathered being,
ending her poem with a plaintive
"What were you trying to tell me?"

I remember that group
of incredible, unique, talented
and blew-me-away-forever women,
and how the energy felt
when the prompt was set
and someone said
"Five minutes! Go!"

In the late 90's I was privileged to be one of the founding members of the Clayoquot Writers Group, which continues today, with many published authors among them. This is what poured forth in response to Karin's wonderful prompt over at dVerse: Try To Remember. She offered her own "I Remember" post here, and that definitely triggered mine. Women in writers' groups get to know each other at a very deep level, because we write our deepest truths. What a privilege it was to write my way through that first winter with that amazing group of women. Check out the offerings at dVerse. There are sure to be some great reads over there.