Bursting buttons on their dresses as they
breathe deeply, opening themselves to the
expanse and freedom of the universe.
In the kitchen, peeling carrots, snapping beans,
whipping potatoes, hands in flour,
rolling pie crust thin across the board,
talking, laughing, crying, aprons tied around necks.
Come away. Come away to the sea!
Fly out on the ocean where no boundaries constrain,
where each lies on her own island of the soul
enraptured in the summer sun and deep blue sky.
But no woman is an island, is an I Land.
The soul craves connection.
From our separate islands reach bridges of
the heart like spokes of a wheel,
touching one another,
joined at the source,
a circle of connection.
Mothers. Daughters all.
Life spring now
emerging from our souls,
bursting forth in golden waterfall.
The path seemed one of conquering waves
and taming seas.
But the power and the freedom flowed from within,
weaving networks laced with feeling and with warmth,
with speaking and with being understood,
with our separateness now more powerful,
more intimate, more connected as a greater whole.
Our wheel of wisdom widens to admit each new being,
contracting both in grief and loss,
expanding then with joy and hope at
each discovery and birth.
The circle is endless and not to be understood. It is
dynamic and in relentless motion, an ordered chaos.
The cycle produces energy and flow without our Knowing.
The saltwater of the sea runs through our veins and
contains the life of the first mother and the
generations of every mother and daughter to be.
As one ship goes over the horizon into night,
on the other side it sails out of the sunrise as a new life.
The circle is complete.