Great Mother Love

Her songs are earth deep mantras calling names of constellations into being.

Her light soaked in, released the magic pine and herbs.

All those folded flowers lifted up their sacred prayers – water, light, dirt, love.

Her gifts – who could forget them?

Did you see her gentle curves?

The way her spine supports her children?

It’s impossible to live without her heaven/earth transcendence.

Aren’t we all turning, turning with the planet that she raised?

7021908809_b614c77638

©Abigler 2015

photo credit: 172/365 I Want to See the World via photopin (license)

Lucid

 

If she could think herself sane

She would follow god maps

To clean, tempered planes

Even-keeled, deepening rests.

 

She’d soften her mind

On grass-fed rains

Her feet pressed

In long settled earth.

 

Maybe there is a way.

 

Sometimes the paint

Clings to her skin

Long after the brush

Pushes in.

 

Perhaps she drenched herself

There in the flecks

Where she can be colors

And rays.

 

And you wonder how

She imagined.

How she swept through

The taut pain.

 

If she could breath out

Through the frame

She would sing

And you would believe

She was sane.

 

© Angela Bigler 2013

 

 

Image

 

 

photo credit: deflam via photopin cc

 

Woman

medium_2124663742

 

To be woman

Is the flowing strength

Surrender

 

This caring for others

Breaks my heart

But lifts me

And my curves

And bone

Smooth pelvis

 

What is different

Is my voice

More like a song

Or spirit

Than a masculine gruff

Not that I can’t growl

And bare my teeth

And burn

 

But my soft folds

Add dimension

And my million thoughts

Create

A certain way that contrasts

Yin from yang

 

To be woman

Is the pulse

And wind

Melodic mounds

Of birth

 

No matter if her

Children are

Her words,

Her songs,

Or beings

That she tends

 

© Angela Bigler 2013

 

photo credit: [auro] via photopin cc