My real mother is sacred, feminine, beauty, breath, Divine.
My real mother is the Divine Mother, who speaks to me
through the animals and the trees.
My real mother is the one who sends me waves of love,
each time I sit in silence and pray.
She, my Divine Mother, sings to me in the music of the artists,
speaks to me through the wisdom of the poets,
beckons me through the whispers of the forest leave’s rustling.
She enlivens me, encourages me, tells me to "battle on!,"
fighting the demons in my mind which keep me ensnared, entrapped,
feeling forgotten-- bereft,
and alone.
She does not mistreat me,
as I only have ever mistreated myself
and had expectations that went awry--
As I cannot control other’s thoughts, ambitions or desires.
Nor can I control the wind,
If you wish it to blow a certain way.
The sands of time remain, and yet, you still remain unchanged: My Divine Mother, I love you.
I love you.
I love you.