skirting

on sunday i wore a long skirt to work.  it fanned out like the flower petals, cloud feathers, whip cream.  whenever i wear skirts or dresses like this i suddenly feel taller, expansive, grounded- despite cloud reference.  i think it's because my feet are mostly hidden and my legs glide underneath folds of fabrics like a mythical animal.  the swooshing of air with each step- like jelly fish i glide.

when i wear skirts like this i feel more connected to other women- women i have never met, from photos 100 years old or from parts of the world where they wear garments like this everyday- but choice or by force.

when i wear skirts like this i feel more protected, but not because i fear attack.  like i am cherishing the trunk of my own tree of life.  this miraculous womb.  because if i can create life- i sometimes fear i can also take it.  like kali- mad and wild.  i hide strength under my skirt.

when i wear skirts like this i can pee standing up with anyone knowing.  ok, eventually i could do this.  with practice.  without underwear.

i can herd children with the fence of fabric stretched from my hip to my hands.

i can smell the scent of the earth stirred up by my own rustlings- the musk of mold, the spice weeds, wet grass, dust, dirt, earth.

i sweep the ground with air created by my own strong legs.

the shade of my skirt tents the ground. 

when i wear skirts like this- long, full skirts made out of fabric made out of plant made of the earth-  i sway in a way that is all me.  and more than me too.