8:30am gentle yoga

let’s start by going around the room and offering up what makes you ache.

(it’s November 8th, 2024, for reference)

what hurt the most was everything. what hurt the second most was the 15 other women ranging in age from early 20s to late 60s. students, mothers, yogis, teachers, daughters, healers. all of them girls, once.

a woman on leave from her position as a professor specializing in abortion rights.

if you feel the tightness in your left hip flexor, I think it’s your body holding onto your femininity for dear life. I think it’s your body closing the draw bridge, “no visitors right now, please”. I think it’s the hidden parts of yourself grasping at what’s left of the shadows. I think it’s your body reminding you that this counts as a point against you.

a retired grandmother.

if you can feel the cracks in your spine, I think it’s your body begging for space to expand. I think it’s from the grief acting as a weight you must carry on your head because your spine is the strongest part of you (or so you thought?). I think it’s the lumbar vertebrae fusing together, linking arms at a women’s march. I think it’s your body reminding you it’s not over til it’s over.

a 20-something, she brought her mom.

we look to the teacher like expectant kindergarteners,

“help us?”

she looks back at us,

“as best I can, if only for the hour”