Blood Muscle

blood muscle push
gush us into the world
we tear the Mother
when we push through her
she is never the same

one Mother screams
one sings
one tells stories
one paints trees
one beats the child
one dies too soon
for recollection
one dies too soon
for completion
one poisons herself
one leaps

all of them Indra's mother jewel
bearing the same name
all of them leading us
different pathways
to the Cinderella place
where they must each
good mother
and bad mother
step away
leave us to our own

these mothers
must they all
good and bad
kill us
babies in a row

is there separation
without slaughter?

so we can come to the place
where we craft our
secret wholeness
the place
where they let go our hand
and a bigger mother
meets us, holds us
fits us with the missing pieces

I see this big fat mother place
an open field
a meadow
tall trees surround it

but we are at this
mother moment
not in the forest
even if we were
gretelled here

we are in the light

the fat fat mother
comes to us and
remembers us
gives us each the
thing the other mother
never gave
or took away

and now at last
my fat fat mother
comes to me
she holds me
in her fat fat lap

against her fatness
my body
gives up its armor

I draw myself
from her fatness