Tuesday, June 18, 2013

I asked
for more of You
in my life.

And rather than
something from outside
coming upon me,
I felt a welling up
of You
from within.

Bubbling up
from the depths
within me
You come.
Mother God,
Why is it easier
to approach you
in the warm darkness
of deep night,
when streetlights
flicker out
and the moon has set?

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Forgive me
for forgetting
to turn to You.

For wanting to escape
into the darkness
and hide.

I have been reminded
that you hold all things.

That the warm darkness
is of You.

Like a womb,
warm and dark.
A place I can simply be
until I am ready
to emerge into the light.

And so
I turn to you,
to your warm
all-encompassing arms,
large enough to block the light,
and fully contain me
while I hide.

I hide in Your arms.

Sunday, June 2, 2013


Feathery leaves
patterned against the sky.
A new day is dawning.

The babe in my lap
squirms, protesting,
But You are here.

Can she see you?
Are you a familiar face?

I seem to be full of questions
this morning.
Woken too early
and not yet fed.

The wind rises,
ruffling the leaves,
as my baby also
ruffles me

and I struggle to grasp
the peace and tranquility
of the early morn
as the busyness of a young family
Grandmother God,
Crone Goddess?
(Let me try that one on.)

I miss my grandmother.
She was an amazing pray-er.

Do her prayers stop with her?
Or do they continue on?
Does the burden fall to us instead?

I named my daughter
in her spirit,
To honour her.
My granny died
while I was pregnant,
and never got to meet
this little one.

But I have great memories
Of her with my other daughter
and with me.

Her spirit lives on
in us,
her children
and grandchildren.

But her prayers?
I don't know.