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
