“There is time only to work slowly.
There is no time not to love.–Deena Metzger.
As long as women sing to the ash and praise the sun
pack their wounds with poetry and prose
sculpt prayers in river clay and smear
a drop of menstrual blood into each painting,
we have time to go slowly.
Time to wash the same dish fifteen times
while brooding on words
like, “iridescence” and “detergent;”
time to still impulsive fingers itching
for ochre, rose madder, cobalt, burnt sienna
and wait for the belly
to incubate vision.
Time for a lifetime
of incremental change‑
allowing the gap
to widen in seconds‑ one,
three, five, twenty-four…
hours to sit around
talking our walk,
breathing, crying; breathing, laughing;
indulging in contemplation; consenting
to silence until silence, welling
from the center, turns to love
and we could sit together, forever.
©2000 Christine Irving