Amidst the ever-fanned
flames of our world,
I forge my own glow,
craft my own garden.
I choose community,
seek comfort
and connection
and drench myself in color.
I rinse and scrub and
peel and shred and stir.
I fold and pour this tender batter
in the search for a deeper peace.
I bake this moist carrot cake
fertile with the promise
of a gentle new dawn
where all mothers are valued
and all children wake up.
I share my humble cake
baked with intention,
with my circle of clarity:
my women, by relation and choice.
This evening, we share
a sacred calm as we
spill gratitude and grief.
Because we carry both, always.
Our proudest wins
and what weighs us down,
these thoughts swirl in concert.
The hard and the holy.
We cry and laugh
and nod and clap.
As we speak, our tongues
tingle with the sweetness
of grated ginger, spiced honey.
These fragrant aromas
help us offset
life's bitter walnuts.
And at the end of the night
we each venture home
feeling a little bit lighter,
fueled with refreshed ambition.
