I Had No Idea How To Be A Woman

Pome for June #1

Cromarty Wednesday 18 August 1993 Variable 3 or less becoming south westrly 3 or 4 occasionally occasional rain later mainly good By Mark Power

June 1st and the clouds come in with the heat tinging the city green. Making it almost seem like rain. And anywhere else it might. But not here.
My daughter waking me at 4 am saying No! Saying I don’t want to! And then she’s asleep again. The Jacaranda driving everyone to distraction.
I stay awake and watch the sky turn its murky blue.

At the party, the father of the birthday boy drops his eyes and voice low saying softly, you know, he talks about her a lot. And I get a glimpse of the future. Seeing my daughter rogue-ish and tousled and implausibly long, just out of the surf in a sweater a bit too big for her, holding up two lobsters, gap toothed, barefoot, a fire in the sand. And I think, one day she will know Bob Dylan’s Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid, she will know about Peckhinpah and Kristofferson, and one day she will know about Ondaatje’s blood a necklace on me all my life. One day she will know about Rocco in his bare feet, running his hands through the lentils. One day she will know about Wyoming.

And she is so beautiful already in her thrifted dress, blonde and barefoot on the warm flagstaff, surprising herself when she answers the father that she’s holding a turtle. Presenting it slightly, and dropping her own chin and then meeting his eyes and throwing him a tiny smile. And I pray that she will always know her power. Just like I pray and pray that I won’t regret my past, The Doors wafting through a Mexican restaurant in an old beach town.- I had no idea how to be a woman. Laying down in a blue room on a blue bedspread. I pray my daughter will always know she is beautiful.

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I am joining my friend and incredible poet Ingrid in her poem a day for June challenge. Maybe you’ll join us too.