Blog Tales

Roses, Ceres, Dreams, & Mothering Day

This time of year...
our Cecil Brunner roses are a fountain of glory...


Every year
I make a nosegay of them for my mother...

more than ever,
I am so appreciative to be able to place them
into her loving hands...

This morning I wake to this dream...
they type of dream that will not let me forget...

I dream
that you are all lost in an instant…

A car wreck

and the three of you,
my family,
are no more…
Devastation tilts my world

this emptiness so huge,
that if I can only
step inside its largeness…
then I will be in the womb
of the great mother of all…
This yawning cavern of grief,
this darkness all consuming
is in itself
a pinprick of light
where I stand alone
surrounded by a space so infinite
no words can carve out
a crevice for me to crawl beneath,
on top of,
or further in…
Where are you Ceres on this day of mothering???
I cannot be Persephone
for I am too old…
time has taken me places

I never imagined
and I feel the waning of my
chance to be mother
and the shrinking of my womb
as I watch the lines on my face
moving me ever closer to the precipice of death…

I wake this morning
to these musings…
My father, sister, and mother are truly here…
but the landscape has changed
and raindrops and rays of light
fill the palms of my
upturned and empty hands…

I turn and step into

mothering this new-found space