We Keep Secrets From Ourselves That All

Before A Secret Is Told, One Can Often Feel The Weight Of It In The Atmosphere.

Is It A Coincidence That Stories From The Private Life Became More Popular Just As The Grand Hope For Public Redemption Through Revolution Was Beginning To Sour? I Witnessed A Similar Shift In Taste In My Own Time. In The 1960s, While A Hopeful Vision Of A Just Society Arose Again, Countless Poems And Plays Concerning Politics And Public Life Were Written, Read, And Performed. But After The Hope Diminished And Public Life Seemed Less And Less Trustworthy, This Subject Was Less In Style.

Although The Many Virtues That Courtesans Possessed Were Employed To Defy Circumstances, The Role They Played Depended On The Same Circumstances Over Which They Triumphed- Conditions Which To, Fortunately For Modern Women, No Longer Exist.

We Are The Bird's Eggs. Bird's Eggs, Flowers, Butterflies, Rabbits, Cows, Sheep, We Are Caterpillars; We Are Leaves Of Ivy And Springs Of Wildflower. We Are Women. We Rise From The Wave. We Are Gazelle And Doe, Elephant And Whale, Lilies And Roses And Peach, We Are Air, We Are Flame, We Are Oyster And Pearl, We Are Girls. We Are Woman And Nature. And He Says He Cannot Hear Us Speak. But We Hear.

To Make Love Is To Become Like This Infant Again. We Grope With Our Mouths Toward The Body Of Another Being, Whom We Trust, Who Takes Us In Her Arms. We Rock Together With This Loved One. We Move Beyond Speech. Our Bodies Move Past All The Controls We Have Learned. We Cry Out In Ecstasy, In Feeling. We Are Back In A Natural World Before Culture Tried To Erase Our Experience Of Nature. In This World, To Touch Another Is To Express Love; There Is No Idea Apart From Feeling, And No Feeling Which Does Not Ring Through Our Bodies And Our Souls At Once.