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Separation From The Mother


Your beckon swirls, orangey on black, millions of tiny copper BB’s, firefly tails on fire in the dark. You welcome me return; like falling asleep, you sweetly draw me in. You knew me first and never forget. You beyond name--may I call you Great Mother?

I hear you, sound pervading, floating a space, forming an ear, piercing the crickets, forging a prototype--a sacred response, a universal prayer, an ancestral path home.

It is not yet my time, you know. Baby green, not ripe, awaken by ear, drawn in by sight, I tingle knowing. If I follow you now, I do not smile into consciousness this tiny strip of life, this discrete enigmatic gift I find here wholly mine. I think I need help; I, overwhelmed, but not really. This I know. I, apparently separate but connected to all, have made a choice for this tiny strip.

I open up to the attic room so cozy made warm by Daddy’s ingenuity and Mommy’s love. My two brothers asleep-asprawl and I, together enliven a sturdy triangle never to be forsaken. The baby, precious light-star, spangle-dangles right angle from his nursery crib downstairs. Still I float anchorless in the immensity.

Creeping down the wooden ladder, creep, squeak--quietly, all asleep. Into Mommy and Daddy’s room I nuzzle. There in the big bed asleep they rest, my protectors, my mentors. Shush, not to wake them. By Mommy’s side on the floor I curl--into a cocoon, lattice woven of silken love and sweet-smelling tenderness. I breathe in slowly the rest of life ....

The Family rises and sets with the sun
At dawn protected by the still warm earth
In light guided by the consummate joy of progeny
At twilight comforted by the evolving tree of life
In darkness sustained by the bright warmth of the hearth
In God's bower enlivened beyond quality and action

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Separation From The Mother


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  The Great Mother


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©2005 Laurel Hovde
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