Milkweed Mother

Sunday, March 5

Milkweed Mother

This is dedicated to all the mothers and fathers who have raised their children to adulthood and let them fly, whether those children be human children or creative works they have brought to life ...

And for those who have embarked on the second half of their lives, in hopes they find fullfillment, fruition and wisdom, spiritual seeking and renewed love of life.

This is for those parents who have fledged their children from the nest ... who have let go of the ones they love the most.

Milkweed Mother

milkweed mother, full bodied in the
evening light, her belly bulging
children round and round, she wants

to wait to let them go. keep them
til they're ready, wants
to hold them just a little

while. she turns her palm
up, lets it shake and glide, she knows
the zephyr beckons, she hears the

quiet, slightest sigh and feels air's
breath come on. it pulls them
lightly, lifts their silken

strands with gentle tugs, floats
their tiny bodies away then back.
they hesitate, she knows their

dreams. she pries small fingers from
her ruffled skirts, she smiles
and lets them go. like shy

ballerinas they take the stage look back
then lift and twirl and brighten.
she wonders will they be strong will

they fall well, will they go far,
will they be tender, will they remember?
she trembles, as they fly, she sees

herself again her hands belly breasts
empty and melancholy finds her.
she has released her brood to their

blind aerial dance. they gesture to her.
relieved and just a little lost, she
cups her palms into a golden

bowl as if to carry water to
her lips. like smoke, they fly, the ones
she loves the most they fly into the light

and she, left back finds wisdom, rest and
dreaming, dances with the light before it
sinks below the sky.