Mother Realm

Mother Realm


Bursting buttons on their dresses as they

breathe deeply, opening themselves to the

expanse and freedom of the universe.


In the kitchen, peeling carrots, snapping beans,

whipping potatoes, hands in flour,

rolling pie crust thin across the board,

talking, laughing, crying, aprons tied around necks.

Come away. Come away to the sea!

Fly out on the ocean where no boundaries constrain,

where each lies on her own island of the soul

enraptured in the summer sun and deep blue sky.

But no woman is an island, is an I Land.

The soul craves connection.

From our separate islands reach bridges of

the heart like spokes of a wheel,

touching one another,

joined at the source,

a circle of connection.


Mothers. Daughters all.

Life spring now

emerging from our souls,

bursting forth in golden waterfall.

The path seemed one of conquering waves

and taming seas.

But the power and the freedom flowed from within,

weaving networks laced with feeling and with warmth,

with speaking and with being understood,

with our separateness now more powerful,

more intimate, more connected as a greater whole.

Our wheel of wisdom widens to admit each new being,

contracting both in grief and loss,

expanding then with joy and hope at

each discovery and birth.

The circle is endless and not to be understood. It is

dynamic and in relentless motion, an ordered chaos.

The cycle produces energy and flow without our Knowing.

The saltwater of the sea runs through our veins and

contains the life of the first mother and the

generations of every mother and daughter to be.

As one ship goes over the horizon into night,

on the other side it sails out of the sunrise as a new life.

The circle is complete.

Inner Longing

There Is In Each of Us A Longing

There is in each of us a longing

to be seen

to be heard

to be touched

to love

to be loved.

There is in each of us a longing

to feel full,

to look out upon the

world in the new morning

and to be filled with the

fragrance of fresh grass,

the perfection of a flower

covered with drops of dew

the look of love in another’s eyes.

There is in each of us a longing

to belong

to be inside that circle of life,

turning on its axis

sometimes to the pinnacle of happiness,

sometimes to the depths of despair,

to be within, encircled, enfolded,

a part of every season and every being.

There is in each of us a longing

to create,

to conceive within us the tiny seed,

at first a speck of heart,

then ever growing, ever treasured,

until one day it will out

and the creation flies beyond

ourselves and takes on the

contours and visions of its own

new, separate life.