Saturday, 6 September 2014

For my Mother

She
missed
a bleed
and so,
the seed
was sown.

Nestled
alone
in a bed
of love
and blood
She,
the Constant Gardener
Warm Womb
Incubator
willed this life
to grow
and there,
Low
in her belly
swelled
a soft whisper
of hummingbird wings...

She begins
to connect
to moving limbs
pushing at
her skin
as within
the fertile
soil
of her
center,
this sapling prepares
to enter
a world beyond
this
crysilis
Sapling arms, legs and head
pulled through
blanket of red,
then latched to breast
a bond
of blood red thread
fed
from Mother
now woven to other
on the patchwork quilt of time.

With her
gardening gloves
of love
She tended
this Lily Rose,
and watched her grow
with gently
guiding hands.
Standing
witness
this
evolving bloom
soon
strong enough
to flourish.

And she
in pragmatic
clogs of love,
remembered
the covers
for the frost,
the water,
and the light.

She would delight
in this flower's
ever-changing form,
as the Lily rose
in gardens
far from home,
grown in the soil
of far-off lands
but always still
with the gentle touch
of her Mother's
Constant Gardener hands.

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