Imagine it is dinnertime. Imagine we are sitting around a campfire. Imagine we are ancient, magical women who live in peace with all creatures, so that just beyond our cooking circle, the lions that we keep around as allies more than pets are yawning and settling their massive heads on their massive paws while we confer and confess, conducting our business as ancient, magical women often do, over steaming pots and sleeping children, a stone’s throw from the mysterious male creatures with whom we share our blankets and our babies and our blood memories.

Imagine our business includes culture and commerce and health care and technology and defense and diversions and endless discussions of what it means to fall in love and stay there. Imagine there is a full moon. Imagine there is peace and plenty and safety and spirit. Imagine what language we might speak. Imagine the sound of our laughter…

I Wish I Had a Red Dress, Pearl Cleage

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