Imagine.   We are together in the fields, working as we do all day, everyday.  Imagine.  I am 50 years your elder, you are still believe that dreams Do come true.  Even tho the stories you hear wreak of poverty and  hard work amounting to nothing but a body old in her youth.

Imagine.  We work together side by side.  There is something about me that you just cant get enough of.   Is it my child like attitude towards life? playful and yet clearly productive?   or is it my stories? Told between the hoe and the weed, told over years of our tiny moments, strung together to make a necklace of her story.  Herstory.

And even tho the stories are plagued with ancestral misfortune, tragedy after tragedy.  A people whose dreams got lost along the way, there is a positive message always.  A story to be told that breaks this ancestral chain.

Her dream alive, her body still young.  The young woman listens and gathers the hopes all spinning and dancing between the lines.  She gathers these hopes and in her mind and begins weaving an intricate story, very different than those around her.  Her own story that, with courage and discipline changes the herstory of all those who walk after her.


About Mikaela kate

Raised middle in a dancing circle of seven children. Grew up in a middle class Irish Catholic environment and have been ever so rebellious since. My rebel skills include being a truely practicing lover of no conditions, especially with the young folks and a wide open heart that seems to attract magic in very adventurous ways. Im also rather fiesty for justice, and with age some discipline. I reveal MySelf for MySelf. Welcome and Merry Meet!
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3 Responses to Imagine

  1. treothe says:

    love that image of the necklace of story that inspires and encourages through the tragic to encourage the living… to be makers of the dreaming story…


  2. Maura says:

    yay! I look forward to your writings my love.


    • Mikaela kate says:

      thanks Maura my sister i cannot live without…thank you internet. I have been busting inside with ideas. Thoughts that want to become words on paper…and then i wait for that moment where sitting still has taken me, the flow comes toppling out and what happens? My solar system blows and Im without power, i get food poisoning, i enjoy 2 wee morning hours writing passionately and when i go to let the world have it, it is deleted for some odd reason… on and on it goes…so i use this moment to tell my dear friend and any other interested traveler, as witness, that my thoughts are wanting to become written and so they ARE!


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