[image from traveling-light.net]
As the drums
beat,
we circled
in and out,
before and behind
one another,
our eyes meeting
with joy.
We felt the pulse
of the drums
as the pulse
of Mother Earth
herself.
We were
powerful
as goddesses,
primal,
pure Womanhood,
alive
with the
wild woman spirit
that lived in
our hearts.
Last night, my sister and I attended the International Womens' Day event in our little town. It was okay. There were lots of laughs, live music, lots of wisecracking. But I was remembering womens' day in Tofino, those years I lived there.
We'd all come into the venue demurely, with our gray heads, and our covered plates of food. All ages would be there, from the smallest little girls, young women lush in the flowering of their womanhood and we seniors, so suddenly plucked from that stage of life and plunked into cronehood, so quickly, we could barely make the adjustment.
We'd share food and laughs, poems and stories. And then the drums would come out and we'd rock the place silly. We would spiral dance in circles, eyes flashing, joy on every face. Staff would stand about the edges of the room looking astonished at our transformation.
Those were glory days! The pounding of those drums still beats within my heart.
