Daughter Independence Day
2009 cherry (soon-to-be grandma) linda
…I aspire a vow of silence (it’s hard!) this
fine summer day…to better grow myself more spiritual designs...
and just NOW…the phone rings…I answer not… old friend.
there are calls coming in like crazy Tibetan bells strung through silvery
in Woodstock, Upper Birdclyff Way -
to challenge my tentative velvet discipline. my cherry lips are sealed.
Star-day stardust Forth where one solitary Tara-pink
lotus blossom floats Bethesda Fountain’s font. Perhaps the heavy
spring rains killed the lotus blooms? Growing
only through the sunlight’s incarnation.
Today, I and Golden-Yellow Sun on high praise Pink Lotus and send her light continued!
I want you to know I understand my child…
the jasmine in the park perfumes me
the moon will soon be
you, bursting with lunar power in your
It’s just a mother daughter thing happening. Circle. Hoop. Cat’s
I feel your anger, like a cobra quick to strike
when you feel threatened
(there is no threat, OM)
anger, questioning and resolving its own natural motives
inside the swelling womb
where Is your daughter…
in your nurturing Artist’s Way, now in the heart of life - so much
your easy wisdom, tough won, circumstances of our lifetimes,
casting the cards,
challenges, choices, chalice wells.
This anger is ancient anger. Anger of creation and of letting go
our youths our starry ocean eyes (though our eyes are ever of the cool-blue stars
Plum wine sex past heather fields of tribal virgin years, alabaster
The Coming of the Child calls Us – through
Sweet fading flower-gates of our own childhood visions, Montauk Point
~~ pine forests by the sea ~~ edges of innocence, take-for-
granted ease– until
Disbelief suspended… where we may soften, boughs of cherry-
but not before our inner Scorpio dances, maps out our territory,
the Season passes, when It will return. It can make you sad, it can
but do not let it
make you hard, because you do
deserve your High Priestess happiness, your Mystery. Now, your
Empress seat your
flowering family tree. Unbound. And no thing in your history can hold back
the healing - the baby bumbles, buzzing, giggling Her descent to Gaia – where
great grandma humbles us with sour dough bread, leek soup with iron-rich dark
and her etchings drawn from photo memories of Cuba and Katrina
and a sure-fire willingness to be present for this life…
All of it hallowed
Each day, each night seen sacred
and not to separate the good and bad but taste the essence
which is good -
It’s just a mother daughter thing. Natural as the waterfalls.
Tiny footprints in the sand the playful tide returns…Us
to constantly escape these prickly-pair traps
with Mother Love and cherries