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© 2016 by Binahkaye Joy

A woman falls on her knees
To the earth she pleads her case:
“Mothers, I have known for a long time
What it is you want from me.”

The wind whistles her name in remembrance
Bowed trees welcome this daughter back to her beginnings
All in white she has come
Finally, to be seen

Her ear to the ground
A pulse races through her
“Listen, to us,” they say,
“You will have to do this, now.
You have lost your home
So that you can build a bigger one.
A real one
That can hold all of this work.”

She weeps at the foot of their altar
The truth comes forth
In whispers to the creators
The grass drinks her offering
The sun begins to scorch her back
She eats the dirt for its nutrients

Full, her white dress stained with mud,
Somehow she has been reborn
Her belly round again with more seeds
To deliver the word
Her breasts leaking ever more
“You will always be pregnant,” they tell her.
“You will always be in labor.”

The birds echo the same song
The trees nod, their leaves rustling in agreement
“You will gather this thing,” they say
And then you will let it go.”


Binahkaye Joy is a new mommy, dancer, doula, writer, movement facilitator, and creativity coach. She writes extensively about the intersections of mothering work and the cultivation of a vibrant creative practice. She is founder and gourd keeper of the Mothering Gourd, a creativity immersion sanctuary for mothering artists. She is working on several book projects, including a memoir about the meta-birth journey of her children. She lives in Washington, DC with her husband, James, and sons, Bloom and Wonder.