Star

Given a leopard-spotted agate
for courage and grounding, a star;
I rubbed it between my fingers and turned it round and round
I thought, how much is this like me?
Smooth and beautiful when held one way,
sharp-edged and pointy when held another,
white and black, black and white,
uneven, irregular, yet perfectly integrated.
They said it was a gift from my mother,
and my grandmother, and I wept,
because I’d never been taught,
never been taught that being a woman was a gift.
My womanhood, then, I must give to myself, claim it,
for it has been waiting, like the agate,
formed by fire in the deepest earth,
shaped and cut, but unbreakable.

Dreamseeds

Dreamseeds
Sprinkled over perhaps-exhausted soil
with equal parts hope and fear
Watered haphazardly with secret dreams, and
the occasional energetic cloudburst of serious effort;
but then neglected until they turn brown ’round
the edges, until the ache of them brings on new
storms of tears.
Some I planted long ago and then forgot;
they sprout and green up like volunteer corn
in what I though was my field lying fallow,
like a gift, a string around my finger,
a tug at the hem of my ambition.
I will put it on the back of my hand
where I can see it,
where I will remember: Keep the light shining.
Hack out the deadwood, yank at the thorny weeds
that threaten to choke out the
Dreamseeds