I wish to go with you to a nature place–the beach, a forest, the desert here. I’d pray to Mother Earth silently, or out loud if you didn’t mind, and say thank you. I’d thank her for nourishing you to life and helping you be a person all these years. Gladly, I’d thank Mother Earth for her good work of forming you.
But my main hope is– I wish to be quiet and listen to you. I’ve said too much already. I’m sorry that when I met you in person, I didn’t ask more questions. It was overwhelming to encounter you in the physical world, suddenly amazing, seeing me, accepting the gifts I offered. I hadn’t prepared.
In this nature place, I’d be quiet and hear anything you wanted to say. Holding your truth would be my joy.
If your truth wasn’t wearing words, I’d listen to your silence. Whatever lived in that silence, I’d hold however you wanted me to. Gently, firmly, with compassion, with cool matter-of-fact validation. Curious warmth, patient welcoming. I’d hold your truth for that moment, or for a long time.
Also I’d wish to hold your sacred, beautiful body. Silently, I would hold your sacred, beautiful body for as long as you wanted me to. A few heartbeats, or whatever you asked for.
I’m grateful to your body for its hard work doing the impossible, like mine has, surviving harms that seem like they would destroy diamonds. Yet these tender bodies prevail.
I hope the love forming inside of me as I held you in that nature place would be based on reality and something happy, wanted, and appropriate. I’d like to meet you as an individual, and in the context of your family. I’ve seen pictures of the family you’re nurtured in, with your brilliant spouse-poet and energetic running dogs.
I’m a slow-moving lady. It’s not my gray hair; since I was a kid, I’ve trailed behind looking at gutter trash and clouds, touching plants, talking to trees. The slowest walker, I’ve been criticized. I’m average height but my legs are short, and I’m not good at hurrying.
I’m crying because my slow-moving body has been disrespected. But I think you might respect it. I feel a respect from you already that I hope is real.
Thank you for walking slow enough for me. Thank you for making a little place for me, if only for that imagined day.