Our Daily Bread

Our Daily Bread Flour, yeast,and milk,a bit of butter too, and giving it a little time to rise, into a loaf, it grew.. From this mass of sticky flour will come warm, pillow soft bread. My body continues its weary work, as thoughts float through my head. Looking out my window, I see the vast blue skies, my heart fills up with longing… like dough, perhaps I'll rise. My arms will grow soft feathers, my bones all hollow out… giving me what I will need to fly and float about. Freedom from the daily drudge, from burdens and all my cares… I'll flap my newly made wings and fly away from there. Out this very window, into the skies I see… over the distant mountain tops to some other mountain peaks. Perhaps a place where I could find A peaceful people who… give high value to a woman's mind, and all that women do. We sisters of the uterus, we captives of the Moon, we who bleed to create life, Soldiers in stiletto shoes… carry more than our fair share of heavy burdens and the blame… our bodies are seductive and so, steeped in shame. These anchors bound to my arms And binding ties, severed, when bone turns to hollow straw and skin sprouts supple feathers. Then I'll rise like yeasty dough and bake in the oven of the sun. I hear the ding of alarm bells ring telling me my bread is done.