After reading what I have written, does this lady staring out at the world fit with the story? Is she bold to assume we can accept and love her just for who she it?
The Pedestrian Woman by Robin Morgan
She stands at the intersection, waiting
to stride across in the inimitable way of hers,
shoulder bag banging against one hip, head high,
her hair promiscuous to the wind.
Or sits at the typewriter, inconspicuous
as any other woman,
writing messages to the universe
which will get her in trouble with the boss.
No past, no future, flickers like a clue
in all those chance encounters
that accumulate a life.
See her ride the subway. See her
warm the leftovers for her supper.
See her feed her dog.
And can you see what vision
fires its shape in her sleep's kiln,
what passion, irony, and wit,
what love, what courage
in all her daily movements?
Thanks, Stephanie for this poem shared recently.
This poem was my inspiration in a recent writing class to play with the line "her hair promiscuous to the wind", particularly intrigued with that word "promiscuous" and wondering if the word needed to be a negative word or maybe something playful. This was what I wrote after sipping a particular tea that teased and enticed me. Enjoy!
The image of the wind blowing through my hair as I walk through a field of yellow mustard, outdoors, stumbling at times, but ever bold. My head is held high and the feeling of being alone though surrounded by others around me. I don't notice them for I am in another world. A song touches my tongue and I sing out boldly, wrapping my tongue around each word and embracing them. I sing for the losses of a life once dreamed of. I sing for the world that hurts. I sing a song that laments, but yet searches for the nuances that delight my soul. I grab each moment while I continue the way forward. I toss my hair and my head in the wind and I smile (or is it really a smirk?) For I know what is surrounding me and even more what is a part of me.
If only as a young girl I was taught to fling my head and hair in the wind and walk boldly through the muck. Would I have become someone I don't know today?
There is a boldness that causes my tongue to wrap around words yet unsaid. It is a bit promiscuous as it calls me to ponder, it sits in my mouth. It wants me to embrace it and take it in, but I am tentative in my acceptance. It teases me with it's scent. Do I love it? It asks for me to do so. Yet my own boldness pauses. Let me go to places yet unknown, be a bit promiscuous, let the tea embrace me and gather me in it's arms.
BTW - It was a green tea I was sipping.
The picture was taken on a recent visit to my favorite antique mall.
Happy weekend, dear friends!
Delight in each day and let your imagination fly free.