Caren Rich

“The last four Odu represent the human desire to connect with spirit to experience that from which we come and that towards which we go.  Otura gives us the mystic vision from spirit that enables us to imagine a better life.”
― Fa'lokun Fatunmbi, Ebora

“Tis the good reader that makes the good book.”
― Ralph Waldo Emerson

“BLUE SWEATER

Bom Bom...
Bom Bom...
Bom Bom...

Do you hear that?
That's the sound of my heart beating...

Bom Bom...
Bom Bom...
Bom Bom...

Do you hear that? That's the sound of your heart beating.

It was the first day of October. I was wearing my blue sweater, you know the one I bought at Dillard’s? The one with a double knitted hem and holes in the ends of the sleeves that I could poke my thumbs through when it was cold but I didn't feel like wearing gloves? It was the same sweater you said made my eyes look like reflections of the stars on the ocean.
You promised to love me forever that night...
and boy
did you
ever!

It was the first day of December this time. I was wearing my blue sweater, you know the one I bought at Dillard’s? The one with a double knitted hem and holes in the ends of the sleeves that I could poke my thumbs through when it was cold but I didn't feel like wearing gloves? It was the same sweater you said made my eyes look like reflections of the stars on the ocean.
I told you I was three weeks late
You said it was fate.
You promised to love me forever that night...
and boy
did you
ever!

It was the first day of May. I was wearing my blue sweater, although this time the double stitched hem was worn
and the strength of each thread tested as they were pulled tight against my growing belly. You know the one. The same one I bought at Dillard’s? The one with holes in the ends of the
sleeves that I could poke my thumbs through when it was cold but I didn't feel like wearing gloves? It was the same sweater you said made my eyes look like reflections of the stars on the
ocean.

The SAME sweater you RIPPED off of my body as you shoved me to the
floor,
calling me a whore ,
telling me
you didn't love me
anymore.

Bom Bom...
Bom Bom...
Bom Bom...

Do you hear that? That's the sound of my heart beating.

Bom Bom...
Bom Bom...
Bom Bom...

Do you hear that? That's the sound of your heart
beating.

(There is a long silence as she clasps her hands to her stomach, tears streaming down her face)

Do you hear that? Of course you don't. That's the silence
of my womb.

Because you
RIPPED
OFF
MY
SWEATER!”
― Colleen Hoover, Slammed

“The Cloudy Vase

Past time, I threw the flowers out,
washed out the cloudy vase.
How easily the old clearness
leapt, like a practiced tiger, back inside it.”
― Jane Hirshfield