Like Rilke’s swan letting himself down into water where his swan-ness could be known, so too did my breasts let down, rich good milk almost easing the memory of love’s let down, of letting down the heart’s guard and finding such strange empty-ness that I could only swear self-made promises of never again. Yet! Tired of being a swan lumbering on land my body kept wanting to try, wanting to know being-ness and felt for the way all these years later when my knees on a moon -less night let down like my breasts had taught me, all kneeling-ness into ancient waters where all my -ness were gathering, unguarded and good, gliding together.
Brianna McCabe (she/her) earned her MA in English literature from Colorado State University and is a graduate of The Center for Action and Contemplation's Living School founded by Richard Rohr. She dreamed up the award-winning literary magazine Ruminate and served as editor-in-chief for over a decade. Most recently her work has appeared in Taproot, About Place, Third Wednesday, and is forthcoming in Interim. Brianna lives with her family in Fort Collins, Colorado.
