Pregnancy After Death...Yes, It Hurts

Dear Mama,

You hold that new sacred unfold that is going to be your soulful match.  He/She came after your loss/losses and it hurts too much to patch.  But here we are, solid in-utero true that this is what is happening.

It is rich, it is scary and it is what is.  Why not just throw yourself into the fast track of finding some form of happy life match?

What do we do?
Stew, brew for what is not or meant to transpire for our life lesson few?

We all suffer, some extent.  Some is more than others, some is less than a pencil leaves the desk but that is life, the life we human mammals live.  Cycle, feel, bender and life still.

Mama, be free.  Mama be free as you were with the first, even if the first inflicted pain we have to move from and around the pain to see what is real.

YOU determine what is real, you alone.

LIfe is life, death is death, growth is growth.
What do you choose?

My Sons

Farmer boy draw the path that illustrates my zest for your partners to pass some element of understanding of what we were as mama and sons who learned from one another in turns.

They, like I, will see the sacred truth of how a mother embraces the forces of her son's fierce.
It is not like a dynamic any woman can describe nor feel embarrassed for the intimacy that resides.  It is a connection true and force match.  What we mamas do with the ember is to not leave latched.

I love my sons.  My red waved, glory be done sons.  Their life is full and will become fuller with each day.  My job is to be present as they pay for the mighty living each way.  They can say what they will but they will know that they are derived from farmer forager finder feeler healer who listen and say.

The listen and say are what I mama hope to hold for my sons, for my family fabric spirit daughter, for my husband, for my person, for my earth.

Be of listen and say of the self truth that births from the love we cherish in few.

Mama Somalia, Your Feet Are So Raw

Grief is grief.  Walk is walk.
Mama why do your children of Somalia have to bear the burden of the earth dry ache?

The mama's stifle, snuff cries when their babies die one, two, three because the walk is necessary to find a breath while they must retreat.  This is for her family all; to escape the horrors and find some reason to reach tall.

To a camp that possibly can offer some form of safety while
oh mama
oh warrior mama you sound callused souled steps off to a place none of us can imagine through dreams.

Oh queen mama how you cut paths with strength massive on sore heels walking for the light of vaccination
food for your surviving few you have sacrificed for, to escape dehydration in your child's small body.

You teach us by your story.  You step solidly in our learner open eyes.  We will continue to see you so you can teach us to move toward callusing our hands so we may offer helping fans to stir up the air so change may occur for you, for your earth and deceased children.

Memory of what you have paved and memory so generations next can learn to save.

Turn, Turn Me On

Sat with my sistas out on the lawn, under familiar shade that I hadn't met in a long yawn.

She, my life-live with dead sista Elisa who shed my layers to place of newer.  I am seen from my scattered glass how jagged and frayed were my tendril lessons of past.

This will be a manifest turning ground for
me
family
for great world round.

I'm going to be working hard and seek to feel the necessary fleshing of scattered shades to know and find still.

I am to be born yet again.

My skin is tight and my belly aches for this visceral meal; meaty living for the sake.  I'm digesting to grow and grow some more.

Thank you sista Elisa for shedding some snake skin knowing on what is aching me so.

Nora In Our Family: The List Does Not Compare

Nora In Our Family: The List Does Not Compare: "Be left, be dry, be that sign that resonates for lifetimes try. The earth is a singular large fighting for gentle mourning cause Seen is ..."

The List Does Not Compare

Be left, be dry, be that sign that resonates for lifetimes try.

The earth is a singular large fighting for gentle mourning cause
Seen is seen for us of light shine
                                          bring to a place that is understood and semi-keen.

So sorry for the look that does not compute.  Intimidating but know it is not.  Vulnerability is swing shift gift that fluctuates frequently and does not give idle or tint.

Life is life.
Not is not.
Do is do.
Make it for your self and others for knot closet sought.

The house is colored to a shade of night and air.  We are devils bringing giddy spring flare.  But nothing compares to the singular fair of ponies and bunnies and things of cuddly fur.  Life is about living for self and other no matter what the fabric given.

Living is living.  No matter what the spring offers as a given wear.

Summer Fertility

Fairies and glitter do not compare to the tug-pull on ropes massive Northwest summer vain.  We all are ungrounded and scattered in tedious pulse to make this summer the best of late and great.  Yet pregnant yearnings continue to keep us clearer for the needed Autumn hibernation.

She feels it.
Summer mak'n bak'n fun times had because it is what we do best; be the home of growth and massive meditative life taken.

She wombs what I knew before and still know today, that life is for living and jumping off clear paths way.
The climb is the climb and the stumble is for our hearts to learn from but we are of stone worker quest of learning what our grandmas did not know.

Pensive plight, summer fertility, loving of open arms for self and partner when we find ourselves over come with the champagne flavor of August love making.

Babies be coming.
Babies be born.
Babies be percolating what our earth is sorely needing.

Thought, love, intention.