To My Mother
The women are searching not finding any rest. Their hair is like a silver forest, long with years. Hearts open to speak out wearing a hundred roses on their breasts. They embrace the weary travelers with their well worn hands to defend what is holy. All things have sprung from your hips, the seeds of creation. For you bestowed my life and I am now awake answering your prayers.
The music is peaceful, in the shadows handed to your daughter. Your strength beats the roots of darkness which are now hollow, forevermore. Ladies of the waters, untamed, holding arrows, sculpted with beauty, race with the wind for all earth is sacred. Heal the wounds of sisterhood to regain power as the moon builds us into crystal mountains. Blessed are you whose knees always bend and never break. We will penetrate the darkness and sing to those who cry. Our church is not empty for we are here as healers, priests and prophets. The choice is ours, to bring dignity and love. We claim political power, for we are agents of change. We take responsibility to build a new world for our grandmothers are sages, forever wise.
We are women with broken bones, voices and hearts who dare to speak. We are women who won't let our earth be abused, we nourish the air, rivers and gardens. For we women are a multitude full of force and ambition. We are tellers of truth, and passionate to claim justice as we begin to blossom. and build a new world.
Copyright © Julie Heckman | Year Posted 2015
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