Diane Hosey
Women my age wake at three am
Excited, fearful, wondering
We hear our names called out
A child who needs us is crying
Until we remember
our children left home or never came home or were never born.
Women my age wake at three am
Sweating, bodies and spirits running hot then cold
Our hips ache, our backs are sore, our calves are clenched our jaws are locked
We push away from our snoring partners with bladders full and urgent
And navigate through thick darkness to the toilet
Sometimes close by
Sometimes down the hall
Sometimes outside
Or in a can in the corner.
Afterwards we fix tea or long for water and we are listening deeply for the mystery of the night
We look up at the golden African moon which has called us out , called us out to shed our skins and dance
Women my age at three am are dancing this planet home.
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