Poem: Making Bread

Making Bread

At first, when kneading the dough,
A mass of disconnected ingredients,
Sticky, uneasy, resistant,
Not sure if it is lacking or complete.

Then, in one moment, it comes together --
Supple, unified, smooth.
As if suddenly aware and recognizing itself,
It molds to its meaning, yields to its purpose.

When that happens, I connect with
All women in this and ancient days.
With lives lacking and complete,
We experience that moment

When resistance turns to connection,
When we become aware and recognize ourselves,
Our meaning, our intention,
When sense is made of our uneasy lives.

-- meganthemegan, August 14, 2007