Going into confinement,
Body bourgeons with the life within,
my body takes on pregnant proportions and it’s time now
To go within.
Where though?
Where did I go in the years
That have fallen between learning and acting,
When the last time I went into confinement I was not who I am now,
What became of that person and what
If anything
Is left?
Silence does not come easy in this house.
Ear worms from half-learned songs or
Grazed shins and squabbles leave no space for
Silence
And drumming or bowls or chants
That carry me waking to this knowing
And then there’s the shedding to be done,
Of profession and job or income and ego,
To lay me naked once again before you all,
To say
This is me, pregnant, rounded, softened and tired,
And I’ve nowhere to go and nothing to do except
Be
Pregnant and waiting,
Confined and free
Nwyfre 