I wrote this poem last year when my son was leaving Bali after returning there, to his birthplace, for five years… It's a long story, but to put it in a nutshell, my son is half Balinese and went there to reclaim his birthright. I had lived there for eight years when he was born, integrating and becoming a deep, intrinsic part of the culture. To this day, I stay linked, but when he left, I felt my lifeline to that island fade a little. I grieved his departure. I understood that it was time for him to leave, just like I knew when it was time for him to journey there as a young man. It was his rite of passage and in many ways, it was also mine. Although my own blood is not Balinese, my afterbirth is buried there next to the family temple along with all generations past. I am considered blood to them, through a marriage that dismantled, and forevermore, through my son whose blood is mixed with an ancient, three thousand year old culture that calls me home ever...
Women's Spiritual Poetry