Solstice

Audre Lorde - The Black Unicorn - 1978

We forgot to water the plantain shoots

when our houses were full of borrowed meat

And our stomachs with the gifts of strangers

Who laugh now as they pass us

Because our land is barren

the farms are choked

With stunted rows of straw

and our nightmares of juicy brown yams

that cannot fill us.

The roofs of our houses rot from last winter's water

but our drinking pots are broken

we have used them to mourn the death of old lovers

the next rain will wash our footprints away

and our children have married beneath them

Our skins are empty

They have been vacated by spirits

who are angered by our reluctance

to feed them

in baskets of straw made from sleep grass

and the droppings of civets

they have been hidden away by our mothers

who are waiting for us by the river.

My skin is tightening

soon I shall shed it

like a monitor lizard

like remembered comfort

at the new moon's rising

I will eat the last signs of my weakness

remove the scars of old childhood wars

and dare enter the forest whistling

like a snake that had fed the chameleon

for changes

I shall be forever.

May I never remember reasons

for my spirit's safety

may I never forget

the warning of my woman's flesh

weeping at the new moon

may I never lose

that terror

which keeps me brave

may I owe nothing

that I cannot repay.