The Tribe

In 1994 I wrote this for the National Sexual Trauma Center…It is true today.

256.

We are all members
of a Tribe
gathering
hunting
sacrificing
to the terrors
of night —
Struggling to vanquish
the day —
Forgetting that we
spring from the
earth
each of us formed
dripping clay and water
breath
breathed
into us —
animating us.
We dance,
create,
build,
all out of who we are
Creating – Re/creating – Co-creating
who –
what
we are.
We each
bent and broken,
clay pieces missing;
hunks torn out
limbs cracked —
tormented creations —
we people the
day
and hobble
through night —
Not seeing who or
what we could become.
Longing for a
cool soothing
touch.

Wishing for a guardian
some protective
angel wing
to encircle us
keeping each of us
safe.

Turning to face the tribe
I see the
button eyes of
children
glazed
with pain
holding themselves
struggling to cradle
themselves
in their own arms.

Another clay figure
chipped, cracked,
crazed –
What predators have done to the
children of the tribe
offered as sacrifice
for food and shelter
by their mothers;
taken and tormented
in brokenness
by men and boys – other females
used, abused, traumatized;
Is destroying those
who are the precious
art of the community.
We are destroying
our own legacy
by our own hand.
We are both
destroyer and —
guardian —
predator and prey
demon and angel.
Until we see all children
as my child
No child will be
safe.
Until I can touch and cradle
anyone’s child as I would my own
no child will be
loved.
Until I can protect everyone’s
child
As I would lay down
my life
for my own child
then no child will be
defended.

Those of us who choose all children
must see ourselves as guardians
extending wings
encircling all little ones
for their sakes
and the sake of the Tribe.