When the Mother Cries
Listening, reaching for the Ideal,
her wanderlust- devoid of fear
Seeking the truth-
The Mother- crying for a thousand years
Of all the pain
Inflicted-
They are killing Her in every way
Carcinogenic ants raging wars
Creating immortal scars,
Killing Her giving heart-
She cries... FEW know
But She shows me the way
"There still is a place,"
the Great whispered in my ear, "of where hush and lull
still abide.
Free of the stinking, free of the rapists and killers
of My apportioned Nature."
So I listened and became raptured by the picture
She bestowed upon me;
A placidity, a serenity of depth and white
Where the pines yawn
And the constellations are radiant-
She begged me to try;
"Live my beautiful, faithful child
In the place of virgin
left only because THEY
cannot abide by it's harshness"-
"But YOU", she sang, "can consort with the beast and
the beauty to make all One, As I die
In all other places-
I leave you this small piece of Myself."
I screamed to her- Crying-"But You, knowing of All- giver of All
Why abandon Your post?"
"Because The cancer is burning My eternal flesh into
nothing.
Only I am no longer eternal."
and I understood- and I followed her lead
Now I stand in a place known to few,
To Her, to me, and to the silent melody
Of Wildness and White
My eyes filled With joy as I heard Her caring moans
singing to Sister Moon -
Through an assemblage of wolves,
as She winks at me through blue, pink and radiant emerald
eyes...
I know I am home.
Honorable Mention in Mac Mcgovern's contest "Your Best Poem".
Copyright © Amy Green | Year Posted 2010
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