Dear friends--The blog post I had here was a very intense piece of writing about my history of abuse, set in historical context. It was a good piece of writing and I am proud of it, but publishing it left me more exposed than I was ready for, and led to a painful personal backlash, so, for the present, I've removed it from public view. Thank you to those who wrote to express their support and appreciation.
On the last weekend of August I attended the Grief and Growing weekend put on annually by the Bay Area Jewish Healing Center. It was amazing, profound, and yes, healing. Here's the poem I wrote in my head on the drive home from Santa Rosa.
On the island of sad people
a wave breaks forever on the soft stone of our hearts
there is a grove of arms for each of us
that sways gently in the wind of our sighs.
We cry out
and the crows continue their work of being crows.
We cry out
and the deep rooted forest stays rooted deep.
In the crowns of the trees,
ten thousand green-tipped twigs
still reach quietly for the sun.
We cry out and our cries become a flock of small wings circling the place
where we stand weeping.
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