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Sunday, September 27, 2015

And a child shall lead them

‪#‎balloflight‬ has shown me that these little people are galaxies of their own. We think that we are here to guide them and often they are here to guide us. In the past 2 weeks she has inquired about each and every corner of myself that I didn't know she knew about and wondered how I would ever teacher her. Just after the last new moon, she found a bowl of stones/crystals and wanted to know about each one and how to clean them. This 3 year old sat down for over an hour - learning about each stone and helping me clean them. Her favorites? Amethyst and lumerian with a special liking for garnet. She was so patient with each one and even asked if she could put certain ones in the window so "the sun could touch them."
Last night, she was a model student for dance and sacred movement and then concluded the lesson by leading me through a series of yoga poses while adjusting my 3 legged downward dog pose - like a pro! After that she worked on her school projects with an impeccable discipline and focus. As usual, she led me in a simple and poignant prayer before bedtime. Something along the lines of, "I love everyone. I love life. God, bless all that I love. Amen! Ase'O!!"
This morning, she brought my waist beads into the room while I was dressing and asked if I was going to wear them today and when could she get her own. 
Dear #balloflight,
One day, you will have your own beads, gems and adornments. Time will make sure of it. These things will accent you the way light reflecting off of water adds color to the sun setting and hug you like clouds kissing a full moon rising; but, the sun is still the sun, the moon is still the moon and you little girl, are still a galaxy unto yourself. A magical part of a larger universe full of wonder and everything I seek to understand. 
I tell you this every day and I hope you never forget: you are made of the same material of stars, event horizons and galaxies that we have yet to encounter or dream of. You are magic. A supernova dipped in dark honey and ether. I touch these hips that opened to bring you here and I am humbled. I look at my jawline on your face, my grandfather's grandfather's dip in your upper lip and the concept of time is redefined. In your laugh, I hear my grandmothers singing. Every part of me and your father is woven into your smile. Each day, I am blown away by the power of blood, bones, skin and melanin. 
#balloflight, thank you. You assuage my fears. I was worried that somewhere between leaving our home with only you on my back and shifting my world into a life I came to live could possibly be the wrong for you. However, every day you teach me that it is important for mothers of daughters to rise to our best and holiest selves. It is important for us to be the dream that we have for you. Womanhood can not be outlined in speeches shoved down the mouth of preteens juggling red moons and patriarchy. Womanhood is learned through eyes, ears and every quiet moment. Becoming a woman is the art of a witness. It's easier to be what you see. Every day you remind me that I am giving you something that inspires and that the best me equals the best you. 
Little girl, thank you for blessing me. You are the closest to God that I have ever known. I love being your mother, your guide and a witness to your journey.
I love you.
Love,
Mama

Wednesday, September 16, 2015

The Flute Maker

The Flute Maker
(or how I learned to re member)
close up of man's mouth and hands while playing the flute
Photo Credit: Anton Croos (WikiCommons)

I watched him
bend
break
burn
women
to his liking.
Cutting them
down.
Digging them
up.
Ancient tree
burned-
cut into drum.
Precious metal
boiled-

bent into flute.
So sweetly he would say...
Mark time for me.
Keep my harmony.
So sweetly he would say...
Look what I did for you.
How beautiful you sound!
So sweetly he would say...
Kiss these hands
that have cut you.
Love this fire
that has burned you.
I have made you
an instrument.
Sing!
Hold time for me.
And the women would dance
And beat themselves
Hands hitting rings
that once told time
Rings now shined
into decorative marks
with his spit.
One keeps dancing
holding time
And beating herself.
Metal
that harnessed the energy
of the earth's poles
Now, waiting for his breathe
so she can
Sing...
Another would dance
Her feet keeping time
Forgetting that
She was a tree.
Ancient and older than he.
Another would sing
When his breathe came
like the wind
Forgetting that
She was metal.
The core of earth and eternity.
Forgetting.
I saw them forget.
I watched him
bend,
break
burn women
to his liking.
Cutting them down...
Digging them up...
Ancient tree
burned
cut into drum.
Precious metal
boiled
bent into flute.
I watched them
And this
Is how I learned
to
re
member.
-MelaniN
150915