Queen Waiting

When are we ready to graduate to the next level that no one wants to talk about but every woman yearns to be?

That level of Queen.  That level that cries:
I am Queen of my understanding.  I am Queen of my Bee.  I am Queen of every young lover who ever left the ocean for a Meal to Feel, Feel, Feel.
                                                                                                        To the Floor, Floor, Floor where we all do something crazy and nice.

This is being Queen.  This is being Proud.  This is being Solid in the Cloud to be nothing meek but Tall Tall Tall in presence and home we find answers that were always known.

Be the power to remember to learn from the fear that ate our plates away.  Japan destruction that still hurts more with each day.  These are scares to remember, these are scares to full-focus-make.  We are the solution if only to listen to the make, brake, forsake of all human-kind to create.

This create is of something true and more honest than the hearts of young lover's zeal.

This is human.
This is Queen.
This is the plight I see us women of our era who feel our grandmother feel-yas.
We
Are
New Live the Life of climbers, diggers, grinders, holders, formers can do.

Young Heart

Young Heart I hear your turmoil of being something that feels insane.
Young Heart you feel the divine sensation of losing nothing and gaining everything, just to be true/full/real to the other that can come close to completing you.

Awful and glory saying this to be true.  Yet how are we suppose to be anything more than
                    heart of truth yelling for you?

You are fearful of losing something that has been hurt before.  That is the way of understanding how we live for self and new appendage addition.

How you hold hands during the transition of making your way to meet eye to eye is your own to create, how lovely to greet the unknown known.

Laughing, laughing.  Learning, learning.

Clenched Jaw

Hold it in, see what you can do.

Hurts more than the pain that was inflicted on you.

Do more,
See the clenched jaw syndrome as a pour popped that resonates and descends to what is growth Core.

Many times it hurts and we don't like to indulge with the details or the language that makes us ache and sore.

I know he see me.  I know I see him.  And ten years later why are we in this bend?  Because we are solid because we are cool...because we be making to the lift and the full.

I love you Alex.

I love you Alex.

I love you.

I love.

Alex.

Thank you for your Zen lend.

February 28, Wear Our Children's Colors

I read on the most amazing website (Glow In The Woods) of another family who share February 28 as the day of their child's birth/death.  I was so moved by the entry and excited.

I would love to see the day of our children be of color--the color we feel represents our children.

For us, Nora was fire colors--reds and oranges.  She is fire and light, burning us to a new level of understanding.  She is our fire rose.  Apricot spice.

Find your day of birth/death and honor it.
This is similar to Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday--a day to be grieved and honor celebrated all in the same moment.  What was and what is to be.

These are the flags of our children.

Perculation Points

Wonder walk
ponder
blunder why the world so pound-by-pound ground to the pulp
                                          all
                                          to make us guess
                                          and guess.

Why the steam needs to rise and escape our widow's mess.

I cannot sit nor can I silence the
                                 loud voice of spirit that never leaves my side.

It is what It is.
I am blunt
I am proud
I love for the whole of non-look-ground.
So I may find the oceans we family have crossed to adventure the ultimate pride.

I never know if my voice is mute or harsh.
How it is taken is anyones' to hide or touch chest.

I am native.
I know it so.

She my grandmaman of French Canadian blood.
He be of middle continent native grown.
And together I feel them in every story I unfold.

My third and forth are from pioneer, Anglo descent.
They are honorable, silent and the same soil mend.

I cannot deny them any more then they silence their solstice message sent.

I hear them.
I learn them.
I raise children to instinct them.

May this be the newness of lesson world:
                         meshing how it remains orbit with so many stories told.

Mother Griever

Mother Griever I feel your cry.
Sit her beside the wave of try--try to be normal, try to be okay with the thick and the pain of loosing our greatest gain.

Children die.  Our children died.  No matter the age, the piece remains frayed.  We do learn but the fog is so thick and demanding that we feel still and lame in our attempts to be anything but hardened.

We love fiercely, even when it looks bleak.
We do not falter the harshness of being a mother--real, whole, scared and sold on our children.

Mother Griever you are...

Support: When Are You Ready For Another Child?

Dear Friends,

I understand the fear all too well.  The fear of:

Can I do this again?  Can I put myself, partner and family through another possible pain, another death?  What are the odds it will happen again?  Will it happen again?  How do I support myself when I am pregnant again to not fall victim to my own fears?  How do I not feel guilty for yearning for another child? Am I honoring my deceased child by wanting another baby?  Are my partner and I on the same page for conceiving again?  Will my family support me in wanting to conceive again?  Am I ready?  How do I talk about being ready?

You and your family experienced trauma.  Death trauma of a child.  The wound is very deep.  The wound might never heal, not fully.  This is your reality.

This is another layer of healing when one begins to process these questions.

That is all we can do--find time to answer the instinctual questions we hold about when the next child (grown inside or adopted) is ready to emerge.  You know when it feels right.  You know when it feels right and your partner feels the pull too.  When you both are holding hands, ready to dive off the high dive again, you will know.  Just like a stellar pot of coffee, percolation is required.  Let things percolate and brew to the taste meant for family and you.

The bitter taste of guilt will undoubtedly play a part in your process.  That is normal.  You will feel angst over if or not you are replacing your deceased child with another.  Please hold my hand and know, you are never replacing.  What is felt, seen, heard, learned from outside is irrelevant as you are loving more and more.  More and more.  More and more.  Replacement is not in your vocabulary.

A delicate part is this: Your partner is protecting you.  Please remember this when you feel anger and hurt that he/she is not expressing a sense of readiness.  Listen to heart and instincts of knowing.  Breath deep, relax and allow your story to be told.  You collectively will feel the pull to what is the direction you want to go.

I am here.

Sister Grief To Birth Of More And More