For so long I missed you
Small hands tucked in mine
I missed your strangling hugs
And deep clinging love
The way you wanted to be wherever I was
You filled my ears with a thousand clever questions
For so long I looked back with slithers of regret
Shards of sharp ripe feeling
I wished I could have that time again and again, so I could truly relish every single minute
Childhood mine, yours, so fleeting
Now I do not
Instead I see the beauty in what I have got
If what you sew is what you reap
I truly sewed wonder, watered it with some sort of miracle
I look at you in awe of who you have become
I no longer look back
I look around
And am deeply grateful
If I died, I die happy, complete
knowing you can both stand on your own two feet
And stand tall, complete now, individual journeys unfolding
In profoundest dark
I lay beneath stars
the sound of my own breath breaking the deep silence
Watch the satellites circle, a star burning out a million light years away,
Its death witnessed in this milisecond of my life
I study the dark shapes of leaves being blown about as I snuggle deeper in my covers
I think of mothers everywhere
Of my own, her spirit calling me forward
Her life, her death and all she taught me
Drifting like storm blown trees, the thoughts bend and weave through my mind
We are here so briefly
Two thirds of a life freely given to others
This last one I take for myself
A soft snore rings out, a metre away, another exhausted mother, pulled between two generations
I kidnapped her earlier and made her come away with me
I hope the starlight is reenergising her as it is me
This evening we walked the perimeter of our little island
Saying “isn’t it beautiful” at least a hundred times
Our souls restored by the greatest of matriarchs
The first mother
Tonight we sleep in her arms
Two females crashed across her earthern chest
We will fill, power restored
Yet like women everywhere – we are jugs that pour
Emptying ourselves into those around us
We lean exhausted
This time I’ll be more measured
Try and make my energy last
And then I smother a soft laugh
Of course, now I know how, I can always come back
*where do you go to restore your soul? I go to nature. As a child I was always gone, sliding through the gap in the tall perimeter fence, bare feet dusty, dodging prickles, headed for the creek. Shoes took too long to put on, my nose was often bare to the sun – a red streak, constantly peeling.
Freckles dotted my face and uncovered skin like a thousand kisses from an adoring mother, and the bush was more often my mother than my own, she was so distracted in caring for her own.
As women we care. We care for our own children, I have two sons. I adore them. From tiny to men they light up my heart when I see their familiar form walk into a room.
We care for our parents as they grow older, become infirm. The strong hands that once guided us grow thin skinned and fragile. We are compelled to soften, to once again become unselfish. Pouring our love and time, energy into the generation above even while we are also tipping our jugs into our own young.
It is a time of life that comes to many. It mostly falls to the women. We nourish, become even less and more as we dissolve into whatever everyone needs.
And at some point nerves become thin, hearts aching and there is no one to turn to that can hold us, fill us with the sort of power we need – except nature.
Anyone else would take even more before they give, but nature just gives and gives and gives
A few photos from a quick spontaneous trip to Mother with a spirit sister soul mate on the week-end
I woke early thanks to the family of kookaburras that came flying through like bombers, landed on a tree nearby, opened their chests, lifted their beaks and laughed into the sky.
I felt their raucous warbles in my own ribs and smiled. Deep in my swag, trying to be quiet so I didn’t wake my friend, I watched the stars fade and every layer of colour stroked like fresh paint washed canvas. I’m sure such beauty does something to the human psyche – something we cannot really articulate because it is injected directly beneath our skin. Like drained devices, we plug in and load up until our smiles become easy again.
I keep a camping, hiking, biking, cupboard. It has everything neatly arranged and labelled. From decision to stepping into my car or onto the bike, takes about half an hour. Tip for the day – get organised, keep a list of everything you need and have it organised so that it’s easy to go. Take more trips to nature, all of life will meet you there.
20 thoughts on “Asunder”
I adore everything about this post. It’s filled with so much truth and feels like the hug thus exhausted mother of teens needs.
I particularly love the line/Yet like women everywhere – we are jugs that pour
I’m empty today, and your photos and words helped me feel not so alone.
We get so empty Bridgette. I think only other women truly understand that mind numbing, wrung out feeling. Often it’s when we turn to “things” to fill the void left when our energy runs out. For me, nature fills it so deep and wide, I come back sparkling again even if I’ve only been away a night. Then there is the planning for the next trip 😊
So true, there comes a moment when looking forward is as good as looking back, when parenting young adult children. Very well said!
And of course, along with all that comes grandkids…the selflessness of women is just incredible, and I salute you all 👏🏼.
So true, the grandchildren are next but not for a little while. I will enjoy every second of grandchildren though. I think we are so preoccupied with our work life with own children and then when the grandchildren arrive we can truly relish every monent
canburra does it get cold down under kate?
Heartfelt, Kate <3 My child-caring days are over now that my sons are independent adults. Nowadays, my retreat to Mother Nature is limited to the garden of our apartment complex. Plants have so many stories to tell about resilience in the face of extreme stress.
There are some wonderful books on plants and trees and what science is unearthing about their extraordinary intelligence Rosaliene. A garden is a wonderful place to retreat to, alas mine at the moment just has a long list of “to do” so I feel a little guilty there.
a beautiful paean to motherhood; love the photos and that striking metaphor of kookaburras ‘flying through like bombers’ 🙂
Oh they were like bombers, so fast and fearless – confident in their habitat I guess John.
it’s a very Aussie image; you don’t get many, as you say, on Word Press–
No, I must look into it a bit harder, see where they all are.
I am drawn to the sea.
Can sit a soak it up for hours.
I love the sea also Granny, going there next week-end and looking forward to swimming in the ocean again. Spoilt for choice with Australia, the landscapes and coastlines are beautiful
so beautifully shared of a mothers love so tenderly in your poem Kate💖
Thanks Cindy 😊
Kate, this is so beautiful. You warm my heart, every time I read something written by you.
Thank-you, and that’s very kind to let me know.