Yesterday old eyes
stung –
fierce white
heat –
blurred vision.
Singing love songs,
I scattered seeds
in furrows
raked smooth,
tucked tufts
under stone…
Imagining
a Wildflower riot!
Bittersweet orange,
blue and gold
winding through
rice grass –
sage scrub,
vining over
wave -like gopher mounds.
I curb wild imaginings.
High Desert
discerns
what springs
to life – who
will bear flowers
or fruit –
not me.
I am Seed Bearer,
Earth’s Daughter –
a woman who
honors her Mother
by aligning herself with
Her Will.
Seedcasting
opens the door
to Ancient Story –
Original Memory is
restored.
“Mother’s day”
occurs just
as the snow
recedes,
on the cusp
of dark wings
who flash crimson
in the heat of the
son.
Working Notes
I wrote this poem on March 25th 2019 without the conscious awareness that I was participating (for the first time this year) in the most ancient practice of seed sowing while honoring that first mother’s day with seed songs…
Because women’s stories live through me it no longer matters what my conscious intention may or may not be. My mind – heart body knows what to do and just when to do it.
Originally, ‘mother’s day’ was a celebration of the Earth Mother whose early spring stirrings begin in the northern hemisphere in late March. Thirty years ago when I first discovered this information in a book of women’s mythology I was struck by the feeling sense of discovering a profound truth that has been buried by Patriarchy.
So it remains to this this day.
(Meet Mago Contributor) Sara Wright.