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Laura Stamps is an award-winning poet and novelist. Over seven
hundred of her poems, short stories, and poetry book reviews
have appeared in literary journals, magazines, anthologies, and
broadsides, including the Louisiana Review, The Pittsburgh
Quarterly, Poetry Midwest, Big City Lit, Poesy Magazine,
American Writing, and the Chiron Review. The recipient of a
Pulitzer Prize nomination and six Pushcart Award nominations,
she is the author of more than thirty books and chapbooks of
poetry and fiction. Recent books include "The Year of the Cat:
New Poems" (Artemesia Publishing, 2005) and "The Cat Lady: A
Novel in Verse" (Kittyfeather Press, 2006). More information
about books by Laura Stamps can be found at
www.kittyfeatherpress.blogspot.com
............
She stops stuffing a catnip mouse
for a moment, wondering if this
frightful messenger might be the
only voice she would heed, returning
to remind her of something she has
forgotten. "But what could it be?"
she mumbles. Ravena brushes a
few strands of white cat hair from
her jeans, knowing she cannot tackle
fear alone. She sends out a silent
prayer of gratitude for her faith,
Wicca, a modern form of one of the
oldest nature religions on earth, the
place where all the answers to her
questions abide. Laying the mouse
on the table, she closes her eyes,
meditating on the crown chakra to
open it, flooding her thoughts with
white light moving in a clockwise
direction. She draws a pentacle,
the Craft's sign for protection, in
the air with her finger and says:
"I call forth my personal faeries
from the four elements of Earth,
Air, Water, and Fire. Beloved
Friends, I seek your wisdom
to solve this dilemma. With
love, gratitude, and patience
I wait to receive. Blessed be."
* * * * *
Solid as the stones in her garden,
the fibroids appeared when Ravena
was thirty-nine. For years they
grew rapidly like summer weeds,
until she found the key to unlock
the mystery of estrogen dominance.
By then her uterus had bloomed to
the size of a five-month pregnancy,
and Ravena learned another trick:
how to dress in a way that hides
a fibroid bulge. From the beginning
her gynecologist stated he didn't
know why fibroids balloon or
how to shrink them, while singing
his favorite tune: hysterectomy.
"That's not an option," she replied
each time he suggested surgery.
Witches honor a woman's body as
a magnificently balanced creation
from the Goddess, and any sign
of illness points to an imbalance
longing to be unearthed. In Ravena's
case this meant too much estrogen,
and the only real cure would lie in
finding the cause of the problem.
For years she researched alternative
medicine, discovering white flour,
dairy, sugar, meat, along with the
chemicals in shampoos, deodorants,
conditioners, and makeup converted
to forms of unhealthy estrogen
when entering the body. She began
to shop organic and embraced a
vegetarian lifestyle. Phytoestrogens
like black cohosh and soy, plants
that blocked her own fibroid-making
estrogen, became staples in her diet,
as well as evening primrose oil, vitex,
red raspberry leaves, kelp, and flax
seed. Topical progesterone cream
balanced the hormonal equation.
Soon the fibroids stopped growing,
and shrinking them became Ravena's
goal, the next challenging quest.
Today the sun shivers and lifts its
magenta wings shortly after six.
The ribbons of light threading
through the blinds change direction
as spring races toward Ravena on
eager paws. Color laces each day
now, yards dressed with shimmering
buds, tender blossoms, and the pale
green of new leaves soft as the
fur behind a cat's ear. When Odell
arrives in the evening he reports
the clearing of several lots and
thinks their property will be grated
this week. He believes their lot
may be next. Ravena hopes so.
She can already hear the voice of
this house calling to her, anxious to
rise above the ferns and wild grass
and take its place among the tall
pines of the forest. After casting
a magical circle to consult her tarot
cards, she predicts a move in early
June, a month ahead of schedule.
* * * * *
Later they take the camera by the
lot to create a visual record of the
construction, walking the property
and photographing the SOLD sign
and many of the trees marked to
be cleared soon, maybe tomorrow.
The faeries whisper to Ravena of
simplicity and peace and the Witch's
Rule of Three: Whatever you say,
do, or think will come back to you
three-fold. So many thoughts,
worries, fears race through her
mind every hour. Random, sense-
less thoughts, twisting like dry
winter leaves. If she were to sweep
them away with the sudden flick
of a bird's wing she would not miss
them, an endless river of thought,
a wall of distraction she no longer
desires. The message from the
faeries rings clear. Fear enters her
life when it whirls with excessive
busy-ness. Some people thrive
on frantic activity, but she requires
open spaces scattered throughout
the day, periods when she might
stop and breathe. The Witch's Rule
of Three has swallowed her alive,
multiplying her fearful thoughts into
legions. She often uses the Rule
when casting prosperity spells, but
never applied it to her thoughts.
In the future she'll be more care-
ful to comply. "Time to simplify,"
she murmurs to the cat rolling at
her feet, as she scribbles a list of
all the needless tasks she could
eliminate from her day. "Peace,"
Ravena says, "this is my dream."
In the morning bulldozers arrive
to clear trees from their lot. One
of the maples in the front yard,
one Ravena marked with a ribbon,
falls by mistake. Odell stands
on a mound of dirt for a moment
to watch the activity, then walks
to his car and drives away. At
twilight, when the machines quiet
and the forest whistles with sound,
he returns to apologize to the jays,
squirrels, woodpeckers, and crows
for the trees taken from them.
A tangle of hardwoods and pines
draped with the sweet solstice
of honeysuckle will frame the
new house, a home cradled in
the maternal arms of the forest.
Later, when he leaves, stars glisten
like shells in the black water of the
sky and luminous pollen licks the
windshield as if it were moon dust.
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