Do you remember the sound 
of the hips that cracked 
to birth you 
echoing all the way back 
to the First Mother?

The ten thousand secrets 
whispered into your blood
by every woman 
that came before you.

The blessings of your lineage;
how to know yourself
how to live a life
how to heal.

The burdens;
how to hold your tongue
how to carry your pain
how to pass it on.

You look just like your mother’s mother’s mother 
when the sun hits your face 
and her voice slips through your lips
when you stand firm-footed 
and say;
I remember.

You look just like your daughter’s daughter’s daughter
when the moon reflects in your eyes
and her voice drips from your tongue 
when you stand firm-footed 
and say;
this ends with me.

Don’t you realize
that you can midwife your own birth 
as often as you need to?

Listen closely  
to the pulse of silence 
in the deep velvet of your womb
until you hear a gentle voice 
that whispers
‘this is the way.’