What Is Buried In The

In My Lifetime I Have Seen Democracy Begin To Expand, Not Only To Include Those Who Have Been Excluded, But To Provide A Listening Arena, A Vocabulary, An Intelligent Reception For Stories That Have Been Buried. Not Just Stories Of The Disenfranchised And The Marginalized, But Marginalized And Disenfranchised Histories Even In The Lives Of The Accepted And The Privileged.

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.

Yes We Are Devilish; That Is True We Cackle. Yes We Are Dark Like The Soil And Wild Like The Animals. And We Turn To Each Other And Stare Into This Darkness. We Find It Beautiful. We Find This Darkness Irresistible. We Cease All Hiding.

Each Time I Write, Each Time The Authentic Words Break Through, I Am Changed. The Older Order That I Was Collapses And Dies. I Lose Control. I Do Not Know Exactly What Words Will Appear On The Page. I Follow Language. I Follow The Sound Of The Words, And I Am Surprised And Transformed By What I Record.

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.