Mother
Who gets to be one?
Every mother has a child she birthed. Every mother lives the rest of her life knowing this child is someone she brought into this world. She feels a sense of responsibility toward it but also a sense of helplessness. Such desperation, such courage.
She descends from darkness into a lotus pond, but she herself is not a lotus - not someone who had to stay pure in muddy circumstances. Does it matter? Who is to say that the more worthy mother is the one who grew from muddy roots and stayed pure? She too has a darkness she has had to negotiate with all her life. Perhaps motherhood is the purity she needs.
What have I done? Now I must take courage to nurture and grow the flowers that have begun in me, in my deepest place, that place most connected with the nature of this universe. You have birthed a warrior from within me.
For you I am rock and I am light. I cover my eyes to keep me grounded and gentle, to be there for you so you have what you need to grow up and grow well. But my third eye sees what I fantasize and it sets me free to be what I cannot be. The fantasy is what helps me stay with you as I am, everything I cannot be.
The maze of a soul is the reality of two spirits connecting. In meeting each other we have created a soul. Yet, I do not know you daughter, and you do not know me mum. It is our duty also to locate our own souls, and to stand in the reality of them. Our souls make us strong, and our spirits set us free.
Shall I let you stay in this dream? There is no saviour coming. You are a lotus growing from muddied waters. You are a new pond. The ties that bind are the ones that lift you from the waters you have grown so familiar with, hoping you may finally show them you are your own.