Posts tagged earth ritual

For Mother’s Day

a desperation of our species:

does childlessness

imply

motherlessness?

without children, what will propel us

toward motherishness?

Cura—the original mother

(toward a vocation of care

in the sense of devotion)

you have seen me

my silhouette cutout

screams MOTHER against the stars.

o black against the sky

(another ode to the void)

pointilles of light shine the outskirts

twinkle holy and point to the area of

nothing there.

the absence tells

of an archetype divided:

in one hand Mommy holds

the miracle of new life,

an egg bigger than a speck of dust

(but not by much)

unfolding itself into a five and a half foot tall woman,

holding her own symbols en sphere

but o inescapable, this new spark

a frown on her face, a tear in her eye,

now looks toward the other hand and

Mommy? has morphed into Kali

terrifying, multihanded, and in each

a multiverse burning in flame,

dissolving in poison, a tiny mushroom-headed –POOF-

coming from, well,

nowhere now.

this daughter, not daring a glance at

what she holds in her own hands,

is now undeniably linked to

death.

created into the world,

our bodies now take on the job of composition and decomposition,

a fancy dance

on grass, on pavement, in trees,

on broken glass with leather shoes,

on fire.

in birth, death.

and in death, rebirth.

Mother is our link between worlds,

the person we know

who gets us in the door to this

bizarre party

so far beyond our fantasy

we spend our time in amazement and shock

at the wonders that surround us.

as children of the planet Earth,

we wander about, dazed and

mouths agape at

the tremendous creative

and destructive prowess

exhibited by our collective Mama

Gaia.

Our human understanding

can only go so far,

our metaphors locked up in our bodies

and in their relative positions to

everything else

determine our abilities to comprehend

just where it is we are.

An appropriately human, and motherly, metaphor is this:

we are protein-bits of her genetic code.

Our mother Gaia is still only an egg herself.

Fire-tailed meteors

(looking, eek, oh-so-spermy)\

on a collision course now billions of years past

exploded previously unknown elements onto

Earth-egg and she

continues to gestate,

each new combinatorial compound

provides x^∞ possibilities of

strange new life on the surface.

In some traditions and in some dreams

time exists as a dragon of fire

eating its own tail.

it struggles against itself to consume itself

at a rate faster than the

burning need in its gullet.

Is this what our universe is

incubating in Earth-as-egg?

I feel tender, motherly toward her, and

wonder what she will become

beyond my limited human scope.

What will burst forth from her?

What will she be when she grows up?

What kind of new ideas and new creatures

are seeping ever-outward,

like mystical smoke?

Mother-daughter-egg-mystery.

Creator, Destroyer, birthplace and

composter of us all, all ideas.

The future is vast beyond belief

we cannot fathom it.

We are bound by our idea of time.