I sense my grandmothers.
I am now the age
they always seemed to be
with stern blood understanding
once removed from the sting of judgment.
Wisdom nods unconventionally
seasoned by tolerant love,
compassionate wishes
ancestral salutes
through antique scents of creaking floors
of mulch and cannabis.
The breeze heavy with Earth’s kiss
reminds me the trees were my friends
their nuts and leaves my toys.
Childhood obsessions,
dreams of desire
turn inside out.
Autumn freshness
wombs inward
toward the fire.
(Meet mago contributor) Belinda Subraman
Re: Dissection…a beautiful poem and one that expresses so well the process of becoming an elder…. our perspective widens has more breadth, so much becomes relative to that which was… of all the years of my life these years are most precious to me.