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shamamama May 2019
At first we flew with timeless wings
Into the dreams and beyond.  
And when the truths came
and monstered us all,
we had to cope or fall

I WAS walking on eggshells,                  
Walking on the razor's edge,
         I fell  into life
onto the ground of truth
                                           He IS walking on eggshells
                                           He IS walking on the razor's edge
                                           Life on one side, Death on the other

We are not Born in the air with timeless wings,
           Gravity grants space and time
                       And yet still
            What is up must come down
  
May the landing  be gentle,
like a lion's roar when it
comes to the mountain peak to
announce itself,
May it be wakening,
like the first summer sunrise burning into the day,
May it be embracing
like the entwining vines
racing upwards towards the sun
to gather all the light
Facing the truth around addiction, codependency, and just understanding what really drives us to be alive, drives us towards our own truth, surrendering to the pain of confusion and not knowing.. I write this poem, because always, always , even when my heart is broken, I am in favor of choosing life and the light.
shamamama Jan 2019
After the birth,
this blue I feel,
I wear it like a robe
tied around me.
its edges hang beyond
floor length
Trailing behind and around me,
Laid out for your posterity.
I touch the still moist umbilical cord
spiral it,
leave it to dry.
I want to cry when I touch it
I am becoming me again, just me.
Now there is a you and a me
I look at you little one
your perfection
Delicate fingers and toes
Pink complexion, gentle hair
I know you are a miracle,
and I cry.
Your umbilicus fell off today.
Your belly button is your own now.
I witness you unfolding into this time,
limbs filling out into every new now,
My ****** expanded for you
And now it shrinks down everyday.
My *******, a river of milk flowing
To meet your hunger,
I hold you to my heart
And I love you,
Every breath,
Every finger,
Every toe
Every look and sound you make,
Every second-- I pour forth with love for you
How will our time
Be together
Will I listen well,
Will you show me well?--
You still see
the invisible umbilicuses
tracing back through every birth to
the original Mother
To the Great Oneness
Every you, and every me
Connected to the Source
To the Breath of Life
Now---- I can see this blue I wear
As the ocean around me
And I can feel the waves
washing me, washing me, washing me.
Mother, birth, postpartum, blue, cry, Source
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