may it be here

May it be here,
In this life that screams “Mom, Mom, Mom!”
In the rushing breeze
And noisy trees.
May it be here,
In my sweat,
In my running shoes,
In the storm that could soak us.
May it be here,
Between bursts of rationality,
Probing themes of time and energy.
May it be here,
Among the aimless wanderers,
A park bench, and the weeds,
May it be here,
With sirens and rain in the distant air,
The wind whooshing more and more.
May it be here,
In this body, in these clothes,
With an empty belly,
And a stuffy nose.
May it be here,
That I live.
The children flying on swings to foreign lands.
With their quick feet and strong willful bellies,
A sacred power animating their forms.
Their stampeding-elephant wills, May sometimes make me feel as if I’ll be run over.
One child is a bird,
And one a Tarzan,
And I love this.
But I have to admit sometimes I don’t know how to be with them.
I forget myself in my exhaustion.
I front power plays, I bluff serenity.
Then I remember the power of intention.
And it is here in the panic and anxiety that I allow my heart to drink vats of gratefulness.
It is here I relearn to play their game,
A play inherited by the power that moves them, that power that moves me too.
It is here I find imperfection and grace and empowerment.
And it is here that resistance falls
And the drama in my mind settles like dust.
I smell rain and am awash with a sense of knowing
I borrow their hearts and their ears
May it be here
That I live.

earth mothers

Earth mothers know what it takes

to give and keep on giving.

And watch with love and acceptance

each seed her children are planting

Earth mothers know the selfless act

of letting go

And smile with faith and patience

as her children reap the seeds they sow,

and become certain they know so much

and forget how to listen, or at times lose touch.

Earth mothers know how to keep the connection strong

and pull her children close like gravity

to a place they know for sure that they belong.

Earth mothers know that disaster is a part of the cycle

and that what remains is always stronger after

because beneath the remnants of what “was”

is the truth of what really is.

Earth mothers know the pureness of tears,

like the rain that washes over pain.

And reveals the rainbow colors of change…that hug the edges of the light

that otherwise you might not know is there

Earth mothers know the lure of the moon.

And the introspective language of the stars.

And urge temples and lincoln log towers to reach towards the sky

where her children may look upward and outward and

somehow end up back inside themselves.

Earth mothers know how to gently stir her children awake.

And point them towards a sun that blinds them with love,

introduce them to forests that show them that to grow

everything else must also grow,

and to Earth Mother herself who has taught a mother all she knows.