Confinement and freedom

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


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 


Pregnant and waiting,

Confined and free

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