Photo by Sara Wright
The Desert Mothers
peer out of pale pink apple
blossoms, fringed Chamisa
clumps of gray green
asters…
A glittering diamond frost
coats dark red ground.
Redwing and Dove songs
celebrate new life
in the Round.
My Visions
repeat the warning:
Slow down.
It’s not time
for too much
raw Sap to rise.
Scorching tender roots
is a grave mistake.
Roots need Earth space,
to drift and dream,
delve ever deeper
into meaning
before spring fire
bursts into golden splendor,
embodying September’s Grace.
The Desert Mothers know
that timing is all –
that rooting requires patience,
heartfelt attention
and dedication.
Heeding signs
from rain clouds
folds in
unforgiving
blue sky
wings around us.
I imagine tender roots
twining around each other.
Seasons turn.
Together,
embracing possibilities,
changes
of perspective,
the weather of uncertainty,
they thrive.
Well nourished
by Love that tolerates Separation
one day—root tendrils become robust.
Passion can now be unleashed
to climb through
the Desert Mother’s Hair
torching an evening sky,
with Wild Flames
from a Noonday Star.
Author’s Note: Just after completing this poem I go outdoors and am stunned to see a circle of blue—a hole—that open sunder heavy gray skies—this kind of sign reveals the profound interconnection between every human being and this beloved Earth cradled by the sky—the place we call home—messages abound. Later a second sign—I re-reading the poem and although it is absolutely still the door opens by itself. Someone is speaking and I am trying to listen.
(Meet Mago Contributor) Sara Wright – Return to Mago E*Magazine
Mary – re reading this piece – first Thank you – I am struck for the millionth time just how nature/goddess speaks – most powerfully through word and image – You know for you are Queen Mother in the wings.