Thursday, September 18, 2014


Where once a solitary sphere
Twisted through star-studded storms

There comes a foreign halo

Suddenly, irrevocably
Magnetized to my core

A softly dimpled, barren canvas

In orbit around its aqua emerald mama

You'll dance with me in revolving arcs

Until someday,

A shooting star will pull you out

to sea, to see 

And you'll soar away in the arms

Of a shimmering, glimmering captor

There, meteors will gravitate 

Into the rotation of your new home planet
Precious unidentified objects
Waiting to be known 

Written 4/3/13 & 9/18/14 {image: John Byam Liston Shaw for The Garden of Kama,1914}
I first started writing this when I was nursing Ishmael, and we were constantly tied to each other in a 2 to 3 hour radius. It's both beautiful and exhausting. Especially as the mother of sons, I know (rather, hope and pray) that someday they hear the siren call of the woman of their dreams, and each will leave my orbit as they are pulled in to hers forever (though I can't help qualifying this by saying they'll still always be mine in a sense!). And then they'll have their own children orbiting around them, and I can't wait... 

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