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Creating new from old muscle and bone

Updated: Jul 7, 2023

I am realising that in order to manifest a new way of being, of living and expressing, I need to be aware and accepting of what currently is and be willing to use the systems, resources and experience that already exists as my tools for creation.


These poems have flowed out of this train of thought:


My Own Two Hands


Dear head,

I no longer follow your rules

Your rationality and rigidity

Your twisted words and cold calculations

Dear heart,

Your pain is dissolving

Your ungrounded fantasies diminished

Your hunger pangs filled, little by little

Your beat regulates, steady and strong


Who am I that writes this if not the head or the heart?

Well, I am the hands

Grand untanglers of knotted threads

Tangible link to the divine word

Painter, sculptor, creator of art


Work, sweat and toil

Hands of a gardener, labourer, writer

With my own two hands

I create new form from old muscle and bone


Between

I am mother

I am the switch

Between light and darkness

Between known and unknown

Between old paradigm and new

My womb holds the star seed

Gestated in dreams

Developed in conditioned form

Birthed in transition

Cracking of set structures

Trauma revealed

The mess of chaos

Though the seed is strong

It takes root with conscious action

Mother gives her all

Choosing a turn, redirected

Redirected, she listens again

Varied direction, a green light

Flow returns

Intermittent stop start to begin

Her children will know flow

Her heart clears

The heaviness has dissolved

They swim together toward the light of new earth



With unconditional love and blessings,


Mama Rose


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