Before I was a mom, I was a performance poet. People do continue their art after becoming parents (speak up! I know this is true for many of my friends) but it wasn’t something I could manage until recently.
Here’s one of my favorites, from my days on the stage:
I dream up
I dream up ways
ways to drop
ways to drop my female lover
into your conversations,
on my way to work
wearing her clothes, wearing her
on my way past security,
into the office, answering phones.
You say my
does not belong
in the workplace.
But who obsesses
When I tell you I prefer women,
you suddenly begin longing,
You should not have
I never owed you.
Have you been there? Man flirts with woman. Woman says, “I prefer girls.” Man does a little happy hopeful dance. Woman feels sick. Just a little. Does this sound like the workplace today? Or does it place me rather squarely in my own generation, harking back to a time when laws and attitudes were different?
This blog-dentity crisis – which I blathered on about a couple weeks ago – may be doing me good already. I’ve made two coffee dates with real people in my real life, and I’ve decided to write about something else – is there something else? – something besides being a mom? I remember, vaguely, my life before kids. I can read my old poems and remember more. But that’s not what I mean, not quite. I still want to write about now, about me, about life, about work, about the world and my family in it. And the heartbeat throughout, I’m quite sure, will be that of a mom. But my stories will not all be about my lovely little strong and stubborn, original and curious girl. I wonder how my writing will change. Or my perspective.
Have you ever put something on hold to make room for the people in your life? Did there come a time when you picked it back up again?