Dragon's Slumber

One of the most life-altering things that has happened to me in my 40s is the slow return to my body. This happened out of necessity in many ways, as I simultaneously went through post-partum and perimenopause in my late 30s. I was a wreck, trying to navigate this familiar and alien terrain. This came alongside so many other shifts—Covid, crisis, diagnosis, and deconstruction among them. I have been organizing the poems that tell the story of all of this through the archetype that has spoken to me most throughout: the dark forest. As I organize and edit this book, I find myself delving even deeper into embodiment, drawn to workshops and experiences that help draw me deeper into the forest of awareness.

This past week, I participated in a writing workshop called Stories From the Body with Janelle Hardy. She facilitated a safe space to tap into the different areas of the body that hold the stories of our lives. I was deeply moved by the day that focused on the hands, and by the last day which tapped into the nervous system: the fight, flight, freeze response. I am a resilient fool, so fight and flight can come more naturally to me. But as Janelle had me physically hiding to really tap into my freeze response, she spoke of a seed waiting in the ground for just the right circumstances to grow. From the soil of this experience, this poem emerged:

Dragon’s Slumber
What if all along
I’ve been a pinecone?
woody and layered
scales closed
in the cold, damp air
a dragon laying down to sleep
until the rise
dormancy did not taint
my seeds
kept them dry
until a warm wind
coaxed me open
exposed them to the sun
invited me to
      grow