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Me, My Self and I
- Details
- Written by Eve Moore
- Views: 1544
Me, My Self and I
It is Imbolc.
Candlemas.
Brigid's Day.
And a rather large
milestone of my
birth into
this life.
The milk arriving,
the way being
made.
Cross-quarter tripped
signaling spring,
even as snow
hushes the
sleepy
land.
A trio of twos
heralded this journey
of making peace
a way of life.
Blue birds alight
the green silk of
white pine as
I muse.
The wood of my dragon
holding so many rings
now, yet never has
there been more
life circling
my pulp,
stirring
my sap.
Softening
my edges.
Sweet,
savory:
as below,
above.
For whatever
time might say,
never have I felt
so fresh and free,
so vital, powerful.
Aged by grit,
ageless by
grace.
Such a big
circling back
to begin
again.
And
again.
I am baking a cake—
old family recipe,
fruits of favorite
trees of apple,
walnut, plants
bearing spice—
and lighting a
single candle,
all that I am
one with
all that
is, and
shall
be.
An intimate
gather for the
still small me who
has healed so much,
my greater self who
is sherpa, guide,
steward of this
path; and I
whom I am.
I will have my dear
mother whose birth
was the following day,
my dad, who likewise
had his birthday six
days later—bearers
of much water—off
now in dimensions
beyond this, and,
as ever, so close by.
My godmother in
this life, long shifted
from earth's plane—seer of
marvelous seeing, and my beloved
grandma, whose wise, whimsy
of spirit emboldens mine
most days now, will
also be present.
Of course my
dance partner of
these nearly twenty
four years will be
seated at the
table.
Along with
spring, her
seeds, her
lambs
soon
born
to lie
with
lions.
Her blooms
asleep, soon
to rise to a
new day.
What joy I
feel as my
rings widen
and wheel,
as young
as ever
and
more
than
ever
wise.
For it is my
birthright to
be dimensional—
to hold, contain, like
Whitman, multitudes.
This is how I shall
pass this threshold.
Mark this new
chapter, nay,
book, for it
is a series
and the
third
in this
triptych,
this trinity,
is writing
itself
alive.
Rousing
its leaves
to the
higher
arc of
sun.
∞|∞
Eve Moore ©2024
© Photo: Eve Moore
Eve Moore: Once a professional writer of advertising, I saw the light & it has shown me words of a different nature. And so I take them down & offer them up. And all is well.
For more of Eve Moore's amazing and heart centered poetry and writings, click here!
http://www.crystalwind.ca/eve-moore
“When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.”
—Jimi Hendrix
This poem/prose was submitted exclusively to CrystalWind.ca by Eve Moore.
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