There is a place where the magic
the mystery
and the harmony of the world
rest on the shoulders of women
in this place
she is the translator between worlds
the translator between words
she wears feathers and fur
seashells and flowers
silver and gold
opals and pearls
she inhales the sacred smoke
while standing firmly
planted on the earth
balanced
on one foot
In the other place
we know all too well
the magic
the mysteries
have been replaced with
her body
as object and subject
by others
she wears not the natural things from the earth
but the ideas
the images
the desires
of man-made designs
of beauty
she teeters now on 3 inch, 5 inch stalks
trying to keep her balance
on an aching planet
