Universal Mothers: We Are Those Women

young hand holding old hand with arthritis, reaching and holding on dark cloth background
young hand holding old hand with arthritis, reaching and holding on dark cloth background

We're not particularly strong or brave-all the time. Some might say "heroic"- please don't call us that.
We tire quickly and sometimes need reassurance-for lots of reasons.

We are not heroic, we are necessary.

We are those women.

We sometimes speak about dreams that reveal things yet to happen. You know, those women- the ones who dream like that too.

Visions chart our course.

We read others like open books, and travel surrounded by infinite angels.
Eyes in the back of our heads and bullshit meters built in to our hearts.

Pieces of everyone woven are into everything, because we do what we need to do- when it needs doing. When we think we can't, when we don't know how.

Our tired eyes keep watch. Heavy hearts beat instruction. We clap our hands and swing our hips until the universe believes us because when we are that connected it's possible to stand rooted in the spot that scares us the most.

We know love. We've felt every kind-the kind of love that has grown deep into our rocky landscapes.

And nestled into soft bellies and breasts is where they all come to confess.

We've apologized, bit our tongues, made amends, and let it slide for the fast love, the guilty love, the redemptive love. We give it all to the only love and the favorite mistaken loves.

We bring our worth- gathered by generations before us.

We are those women.

We declare dominion as daughters, granddaughters and grandmothers¬-as universal mothers of this earth.

We are sisters.

We bear witness.

We are grieving lovers and wounded daughters.

We speak ancient wisdom.

We can hear heaven sing and the earth as it cries beneath our feet.

We are both femme fatale and dominatrix.

We can smell a revolution because we are evolution.

We are those women.

We bring our hands, a symbol of universal kindness and healing.

We bring hands and hearts that have held first and last breaths.

Hands that say we are all worthy-and ready to receive.

Open to letting life have its way.

We bring love, the kind settled into bones and blood lines of our mothers.

We bring our guardian instinct and intuition.

We bring nurturing and sacred memory.

We bring our unwritten stories-our brushes with faith and sorrow that were never spoken.

We bring dirt caked fingers, rubbed raw from digging for moments to cherish.

We bring open hands and the freedom to breathe.

We bring hope and faith- a manifesto. We bring joy and loss- an invitation.

We bring lessons in relationships, even the ones that have dried up and flown away.

We bring thank you prayers for all blessings received, and all those that are already meant for us.

We bring our well-loved tattered and tender hearts to this world.

We are those universal women.