Blue Madonna

Blue Madonna

She stares silently
into the vast belly of
Ely’s Cathedral….
Blue and bold she stands,
arms raised skyward ….
face fierce with unfathomable
Goddess powers,
Mother as Kali……
She has a voice…..
she is not afraid of
the Wild, Wise Feminine.

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The Thimble

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The Thimble

It is a little light going on in my tired, dimmed mind.

Something I have never seen as precious

until this very moment has bubbled up in a ball of soft

white light to the surface of my thinking……

Yet it’s not just my mind with which I think it,

for, as my body buzzes with recognition of Mother

and the gift she gave of her silver thimble,

some other warmth showers my nine year old self.

I felt safe and secure when Mother was darning.

I sat by her, watching her wrinkled hands, those working

needle and thread against the tension of the cloth…..

With thimble behind, breakthrough was sure.

The support it gave to push yet not harm,

to succeed with this quiet and peaceful task

just with herself, an exercise not entirely for herself

yet one which allowed her own, now centred self, the space.

I found warmth bathing me…….
Mother felt safe and ……..so did I.

The Work of Hands

The Work of Hands
Staring down at my creased hands,
I see a journey with tales embeded in every fold.
Mothers hands were worn and tired
reast on her knees on her apron.
I would notice them when she was sewing,
mending my clothes, darning a sock
or stitching on a button which hung by a single thread;
I felt safe when they were busily employed,
her rough, sore, sad hands.
Here I am with mine, ageingly flabby,
now for the first time, with long, manicured nails.
At sixty one I feel just a little bit more like a woman.
I wonder what mum’s hands would have looked like,
manicured and cared for. I wish I had known.

Unbounded Loving

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Unbounded Loving

Unbounded Loving

My heart is full and on the edge of bursting….
Little souls and smiles cause aching in me
as words come cautiously from their lips….
“can I come live with you in England grandma….?”
A daughter cries out from her hospital bed
“I don’t want you to go home on Friday Mum.”
The landscape too calls out in Massachusetts.
It wraps me in layers of Appalacian mountains,
lake, trees and skies….
houses of timber nestled in magnificent flaming maples
down tracks way off the road…
I feel the Great Mother calling me ……
yet, back in the land of my birth an umbilicical
strand is left which can never be severed…..
My two feet are straddling two contintents, still
and I am learning to expand my heart out across the world…..
Such learning and Loving can have no boundaries.

Being Mother ~ Loving Daughter

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Being Mother ~ Loving Daughter

Being Mother ~ Loving Daughter

My day yesterday was spent fighting sleep. In the car, on the phone, in meditation ~ it really was the most painful time….. do I have narcolepsy I wonder? I came to bed just after ten and yet….. here i am 2am tapping away… I could not sleep. Too much anxiety in my body, struggle in every cell…. but do i know the root cause? Nope…. it is elusive…. or is it? Would I feel better if i knew my daughter and family were ok? Yes I would…. yet I have no control over these things…. I cannot control what’s happening, to them. To step back and say “I can do nothing” feels shameful…. a mother would do anything….. a mother would take it all away – if she could.

Kim needs brain surgery for Chiari 1 Malformation: please go to this link for more information:
http://www.youcaring.com/help-a-neighbor/kim-s-helping-to-health-fund/82707