mother eve

Mother and Child Meditation

 

 

Think back to the bond between Mother and Child

Do you imagine it broken by

internal jealousies, shyness against intimacy,

cringing before angry gods of tribal culture,

dying of a thousand casual wounds, volleys

of will and grievance cast into fragile frays?

Or do you see a pageantry of unfailing matriarchs.

Strong sons and daughters waltz in attendance.

Flowers bloom from every slip of finery into

fecund mud.

Mothers of our species tend toward

adaptability, bear challenge of balance.

Trying out touted trends, begging for guidance

when their own experience ill fits today's

terror and tantalization.  Always someone must

be blamed; sentiments must be appeased.

Where is the ease, the joy, the sharing up and down,

familial care and comfort?  Where is that not our fair

Command?

A child is a gift to the future; a mother is a gift

of nature and nurture.  Each brings, receives

all imaginable possibilities.  Each is a present day.

 

 

 

another road song

 

 

Not all mothers are loving.

Not all grandmas are kind.

DNA can marry hate, terror.

People arrive shamed in error,

in need of mentors, friends that share

connection,

release rejection, reverse lessons from

blighted start.

Transformance art merged with concentration,

consecration to a sane desire --

What would we require?

 

 

 

 

I remember

 

 

Mother mine,

I tried to mother you.

What did you do?

You lashed me from behind,

expected more from anger

than kind eyes, caressing smiles.

Intimated I endangered your true child,

who followed, the one

resembling you.

Scapegoat for resent to represent your robbery,

unfaithful promises not of my time.

 

No regrets.  No graveside confession

of apology.  I have learned to be

a creation of my own obsessive mind.

 

 

 

Eternal Chao

 

 

Eternal rumination through

tangled elaboration.

Taking respite a nonce

to enjoy the adventure,

or stationed to caverns of woe

for a decade or so.

No dragons nor maidens have I,

no trade in answers.

Conveyed by sky,

falling as I yearn to

through luminous translucence,

layers gorgeously etched.

Glorious.

Feathered and free.

Reassurance, Earth’s embrace; firm, gentle.

I tell the ache of ages:

break out, grow

angelic arms.  Malleable,

able to reach each troubled

artery.  Ease the anger,

dissipate insanity.

I am Mother, Daughter, Holy Crone.

I am eternally

my own.