29–Mother Mary

Beatles sang Mother Mary

comes to me, and i remember

my mother Mary coming to me

it’s the season to remember

the blood spilled whole nights

of terror small reasons to always

fear the dark a million stars have

not wiped away all the memories

i too am mother, thankfully not

Mary i look like her

a curse that will not let me go

the weeping earth true

mother to me i’m here to

hold her

wish to comfort her

want to end this madness

of mother killing

how related we are

every drop of creation

i know now that forgiveness

does not have forgetting in it

remembering is the peventative

medicine that gives me compost

fruit trees, and the letters i send

to my 84 year old mother with

their perfume of love and earth

i enter this mother thing my

skin clean and vulnerable

prayer an explosion of

knowing a gift of always

beginning always being

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