Roses, Ceres, Dreams, & Mothering Day
MAY 9, 2010
This time of year...
our Cecil Brunner roses are a fountain of glory...
Every year
I make a nosegay of them for my mother...
Now,
more than ever,
I am so appreciative to be able to place them
into her loving hands...
This morning I wake to this dream...
they type of dream that will not let me forget...
_I dream_
_that you are all lost in an instant…
_
_A car wreck_
_
and the three of you,_
_my family,_
_are no more…_
_Devastation tilts my world_
_
this emptiness so huge,_
_that if I can only_
_step inside its largeness…_
_then I will be in the womb_
_of the great mother of all…_
_This yawning cavern of grief,_
_this darkness all consuming_
_is in itself_
_a pinprick of light_
_where I stand alone_
_surrounded by a space so infinite_
_no words can carve out_
_a crevice for me to crawl beneath,_
_on top of,_
_or further in…_
_Where are you Ceres on this day of mothering???_
_I cannot be Persephone_
_for I am too old…_
_time has taken me places_
_
I never imagined_
_and I feel the waning of my_
_chance to be mother_
_and the shrinking of my womb_
_as I watch the lines on my face_
_deepen,_
_moving me ever closer to the precipice of death…
_
_I wake this morning_
_to these musings…_
_My father, sister, and mother are truly here…_
_but the landscape has changed_
_and raindrops and rays of light_
_fill the palms of my_
_upturned and empty hands…
_
_I turn and step into
_
_mothering this new-found space_
_inside..._