Sirens

A clarion call came in
for a night away.
Away from spouses, 
partners, children, elders.

She asked of us: 
Come beautiful
Arrive unburdened
Prepare for joy.

And so we did.
Ten strangers, 
lightly linked.
We descended 
at the appointed hour
to the prescribed location.

We introduced ourselves
and we accepted 
our seat assignments
and we ordered our meals.
We took a table photo, 
polite and posed.

We began to talk, 
vent, laugh.
We shared our fears, 
our trauma, 
our pride, our care.

We cackled
We cried
We clapped
We hugged.

We walked together
to experience next
a feat of pure entertainment
without the tethers 
of parenthood or chores.

We immersed ourselves
in the bright screen
the jubilant music
the witty banter
the eye-rolling romantics.

We gasped and chuckled 
and turned to one ear 
then another
to whisper 
real-time impressions.

When the lights came up
we clapped some more.
We filed into the lobby.
We took a last group photo.
This time, we were 
a unified team, a sacred huddle.

The night away from our roles
had collectively transformed us.
We in the moonlight,
were different than the ladies
who had gathered timidly 
as afternoon sun
had dropped low in the sky.

The siren's call still rings in our ears,
a conch shell holding the ocean
as we now depart as 
healed, whole women.