Every woman
is part of
a lost continent
that flourished once
like Mur, Lemuria,
Atlantis,
until some ancient
cataclysm
swallowed it whole,
submerged
each woman's story
under the sea.
Fathoms deep,
we slept away
our pain for eons,
hinted at, but
best forgotten.
Now, despite that,
everywhere you look
another speck
of land appears,
thrusting itself upward
after a long and arduous
labor.
It is a delicate business,
helping to birth
a continent,
requiring every
woman-voice
to make the new
/old landmass whole
and seamless,
a foolish, fearless
heart
to chart it.
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