why is it?
why is it? many parents want their children to be carbon copies of them? shoved down a narrow, prosaic lane logical, cautious— in 1960s lingo, straight-arrow, but this child wasn’t I hungered for the unknown, the inner enigma what are we? why? is there a purpose? mom went cold, dad frowned, turned away the message—college, find a husband I did—not in the right order didn’t bring me joy found that in singing sacred names, group meditation, discovering my tribe
Gorgeous!