a literary journal published by the Black Earth Institute dedicated to re-forging the links between art and spirit, earth and society
I watch the blade pulverize blueberries.
I am lost here, in the landscape of things
being broken apart by the force of change.
The summer ripened surface of blueish black worlds
sacrificed for a new story. Each berry having its turn against
the quick blade of transformation.
The destruction of its crownlike notch.
The sacred place that tethered it to source.
Skin ruptured by the edge of reconstruction revealing
its jelly like insides. Fragile inner being.
Little seeds slipping out from itself,
not to be planted but incorporated.
I watched and watched.
Matter can be neither created nor destroyed.
There is only the remaking of what already is.
I was exhausted enough to understand the truth.
The smell of sweet frozen macerated blueberries
rose as my fingers peeled the lid off the glass.
I poured the new life of this clan
into my one clean jar. My shadow self
wrapped her rage up in my favorite throw
and put my slippers on.
She sat at the table next to me,
soothed by the unconditional love of my cats.
I drank as Miles Davis blew his horn through
my small speaker.
The cool mixture slid down my throat as I thought,
“Everything is as it should be.”
Jennifer Foreman is a Texas-born big-hearted, loud-voiced, social-workin’, garden-growing, poem-writing Witch. She reads tarot and creates magic in the kitchen. She currently lives in Portland, OR with her two mischievous and hilarious orange tabbies, Charlie and Lou. She defines herself as a feminist, sex-positive pleasure activist. She founded a pleasure coven 2 years ago where she facilitates a group of women through monthly activities and discussions to embody, embrace, and live with pleasure in their lives. She believes that this is the work that can and will heal the world. She has previously had work published in The Sun, Voice Catcher, and Timberline Review.