Pourous defence…

Last night I was thinking,

about how I completely missed,

the last two Olympic Winter Games…

But then when I remembered,

what I was doing at the time,

I realized that,

I was going,

for a different kind,

of gold…

In 2002,

I did not have my attention on Salt Lake…

I was in the first trimester of my pregnancy with Little Gem,

commuting 60 to 75 minutes a day from Vancouver to Richmond,

working full time with the most challenging combined class of six and seven year olds,

that I have ever had,

the gift to experience,

and Starshine was two years old…

And the only thing that could keep me still,

was a wave of nausea…

Six months after that,

I was in Robertson Lighting,

buying a ceiling fan…

The saleswoman looked at me and said,

You are the most beautiful pregnant woman that I have ever seen…

Your husband must be so in love with you…

When I heard that I just dropped right down onto the floor,

and killed myself,

laughing…

When the woman heard my short story,

she gave me a special price,

because of how I could hold,

my sense of humour,

in light,

of the absurd…

In February 2006 my eyes were not on Turin…

They were looking intently,

inward…

Turning attention to removing shields,

and healing a shattered heart,

on the flight of an eagle,

with the strength,

and commitment,

of a mother bear…

Early this morning I had a dream,

that I was flying over spikey trees…

The trees were full of nests,

that were full of birds…

Tiny little birds,

called honeybees…

In my flight I had to land here,

and there,

in these trees,

and with each landing,

my feet were embedded with quills…

I could feel them burrowing into my skin…

I had to stop,

too distracted by pain,

to continue my flight…

I sat on the ground surrounded by people…

Some of them had stopped on their path,

to help me remove the quills,

that had now become shards of wood,

in order for me,

continue my journey…

At first I allowed the help,

but then I wanted to find my way,

alone…

I slowly pulled the shards,

one-by-one,

from my skin…

One of the shards,

became a jagged sliver,

of oak,

that had wedged itself into my skin,

ripping holes,

then my feet and skin,

suddenly transformed,

into a muscle,

wrapped in opaque casing…

With the care and precision,

of a very experienced,

cardiac surgeon,

I removed this last piece of wood,

from the double-walled sac,

and I knew,

that I’d finished,

what I’d started…

Getting it done right…

The sac had repaired its holes,

and the muscle beat,

with the percussion,

of horse feet,

pounding,

on solid grassland…

At first I didn’t know,

where to put this sac,

and muscle,

that I held in my hands…

I asked them,

Who are you???

and,

Where do you belong???

And then I felt the sac and the muscle,

guide my hands,

from my belly,

where I had performed the delicate extractions,

up to my chest,

until the pieces,

slipped right into place…

And then I knew who they were,

and the work that I had done,

with them…

Not one bit of it easy,

but completely worth,

every effort,

to find my way,

back home…