P O E T R Y 

 M O T H E R

by Callie L.

Water of the earth

The break before birth


She whispers in waves



She is the vine that binds

The red threaded lines

Into labour of 


And yearning

Forebearer, mourning and 


She ripples

And streams into spring


Oceans twirling

Small fingers 


The little one begins to sing

“We wax and wane and then we wait”

This is mother’s lullaby


Only instinct is here

Surrounding soprano

Within every howl and wolf cry


Primal, the dwelling place

A secret

  Ingrained in instinct

Warm in her floret-woven braid

Womb is how we first learned home

Crimson and marrow in every bone

A garden enclosed, 

She waits

And with each month, she anticipates

Through every strain, stretch and belly-ache

When will birth respond? 

The roar of her, awake?

The final sting of delivery

It is merely a mystery

And yet - it is only the cusp that cuts into the beginning

For in all living 

We are pushing 


To be born

And die again

In waters bleeding open

The message still unspoken


. . .

The cord is never broken.

Downtown Boulder, CO

© 2019 by Medicine Maiden

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