Celebrating the greatness of those we have or have had the blessing to call “Mother”. What does Motherhood mean to you?
You are a balancing act
of both splendor and sacrifice.
With grace, you usher in life-
giving and giving,
running dry but giving still.
Do you consider the act of pillaging and taking what is rightly yours?
Sometimes. I am sure.
And yet, within the arc of your back you carry the world
effortlessly and with the understanding
of a world that divided itself
before it could allow your healing to take root.
Counting your dreams, you offer them up and
sing sweet melodies
that have raised up the very vultures
that appear at midday and midnight –
a perfectly timed destruction.
I must still not understand and
somehow hope that we never will –
so we dream of whole selves that can fall
on occasion and
hand the bags to another
even for a short while.
Oh, Dear Mother.
Tracing the outlines of this edge,
I peruse the overlays of memories and
unfinished conversations over,
too many empty glasses-
numbness seeks response and yet,
the edge brings echos of safety,
carrying melancholy in a basket of
chronicles that pay tribute to the fallen
women that betrayed the path of freedom;
too soon and leaving many sisters
The edge beckons still,
mirroring dreams that picture the place where pain and ease
AM I easy to love when I drop,
into the whispers?
AM I easy to love when i close the blackness and roll
between the shapes of was and is?
AM I easy to love when i choose the easier reflections against the
loud chants of “as The Man”?
AM I easy to love when its more about the open, the opening
and the blindness within?
Tell me, lover.