Invocation: I am the Woman

I’m a knife. I’m a blade.

Nah, I’m not judging you. That’d be a waste of my time. I’m just trying to live like everyone else did… or does.

You want me to tell you a story?
No? Okay.

What do I do? I’m waiting. Most of the time, I’m waiting.

Did you know that “genocide” is a word the papers are using now to describe climate change? Isn’t that odd? I always thought that word meant one group of people killing off another group. But is that what climate change is? Killing each other with trash and carbon? Soda cans and electronics?

I’m not sure I see myself living through this climate change thing… though I suppose I do… if what I see is true.

Maybe my story is just one person’s story.

This “doula” thing—that’s your word, not mine. I haven’t been especially involved in end-of-life stuff. Though, back in my thirties, I had a health scare that made me think about death. Which made me think about life, too.

Since I’m telling the story, I guess I’m part of it. Sure. You can call me a doula.

I’ll be your doula to…
those of you who don’t yet know you’re dying.

No, not like that. I don’t see the future. It’s not visions or prophecies or anything.

It’s more like—my role is already written. I’m just flipping through the book and highlighting the interesting parts.

It’s kind of like one of those awful headlines. A murder-suicide. Or a suicide-murder. You read it even though you know it’s too awful to believe. That’s the story I see.

You asked if I was the subject of the story. I told you I wasn’t sure.

You asked if I was the snake. Or the woman. Or the doula at the end of life.

Now I know the answer.

I am the woman.
And sure, if you wanna call it that–
I’m the doula.

But just understand–
I don’t see myself that way.
I’m just here doing what needs to be done.

I’ll just love the world
till I’m gone
or it’s gone.