0 Great Mother

Was I your child

Whene'er you formed the trees?

 

Deep in you windswept breast I lie

And hear the call of tiny birdlings.

 

0 Great Mother,

How the perfume of your body fills me !

Or could it be that my essence is touched

By the chill of Hades as he opens the gate for your daughter?

 

Silver and celestial are your rivers;

They are but your hem.

 

 With each tiny whisper of my soul I feel your touch responding;

 I, like your trees, reach for you.

 

Do your children hear you?

I fear they do not.

But to hold your tiny featherlings to my breast -

I know, I feel, I am.

 

Oh Great Lady, how touched with tears am I!

For no words, no song, no human embrace

Can, or ever would, express your love.

 

Fearless and found

Joyous with tears

I love you

How I love you!

 

 

(Copyright Janet Farrar; 1973)