Rebirth (Solstice Musings)

A body traveling along the line of time

impregnates time’s barren cord,
and returns from the mirror’s feast
intimate with its own image.
This is how one dies, and another remains.

No seeker will ever find pearls from a stream
that pours into a ditch.

– Forough Farrokhzad (Reborn)

 

The magic that is our body. The ugly things it endures as it tucks away the grotesque pieces of life so neatly between folds, while inside us an ocean sways, wounds dissolving into salt water.

I woke up before dawn, my hands holding the place just beneath my belly, where something important was happening. I asked the ancestors for strength as the rhythmic stabbings in my uterus unleashed the inevitable release of tissue and blood
tissue and blood
tissue and blood.
Inside the toilet, a ravaging. Inside me, an ocean swaying to and fro.

What it means to carry inside you. Something unexplainable. A magic so primordial. They never tell you those other stories though, the ones that end differently. The ones we hold in a hush.

A silent miscarriage. Also known as a missed miscarriage: when a fetus dies, but the body does not recognize the pregnancy loss. And so it continues to release hormones, thinking it is still pregnant. Not wanting to let go.

loss is a complicated motion, full of swirls, flips, retrogrades, leaps & plummets.

The day after I had released, butterflies surrounded my car as I drove down the highway, on my way to see a friend’s newborn. There were dozens of them, fluttering black and tangerine wings. I counted each one in disbelief. So many. So majestic. Generations there to hold me up.

gratitude and grief go hand in hand. and so we ululate to the sky for solace.

A lesson in letting go. Those lessons always bitter, sitting on your tongue for an eternity. Everywhere a reminder of what you will eventually have to swallow. And we do it, just like so many before us. We find stillness in movement, or we try to. Because this is life, an accumulation of moments and the weight they hold. And what we choose to hold on to.

 

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