48.  As Women Often Do

Where were we

When God fingered

Through our history, all women,

All the same with our hurts

And sharp-edged hang-ups

That will take a slice of skin,

if you’re not careful?

Maybe we were hanging out in some

Sort of vortex of unremembering,

Staring into something, into each other,

not even knowing our history, hurting

And harping on all those things

That never matter when it’s time

To unremember for good.

Or perhaps all lay dormant

Until He breathed fire into

Our veins, our cells and synapses

All alight and sparkling with the life

He breathed into Eve, her Adam,

and all who came after, adding

to the communal pain

Of what it means to be human

As one attempts to manage it,

backwards and in heels.

Or maybe it was as simple as being born

Me to her and you to me,

And us loving each other so hard

We didn’t have the heart to name it,

And instead barked our fear

And screamed those hurts

As women often do.