Month of rebirth,
month of two anniversaries.
Good Friday, 2002: a beating, an interim separation.
April 11, 2007: another assault, an arrest, the first night of a final separation.
Easter weekend 2012: time for a fire.
Tonight two Adrienne Rich poems:
its last lines:
“or, as tonight, the mirror of the fire
of my mind, burning as if it could go on
burning itself, burning down
feeding on everything
till there is nothing in life
that has not fed that fire”
about Marie Curie,
“[who] died a famous woman denying
her wounds came from the same source as her power.”
What has fed your fire?
Can you see that your wounds and your power come from the same source?