Born of Fire

create, Love, save the whales, therapy

There’s this picture that my boyfriend took with his arm splayed out as far as he could stretch to fit our whole family in the frame. That photo, four wide smiles all piled on top of each other, that’s my life. Do you know that Jos Stone song, Spoiled? It’s that kind of love. And now he’s sick. I want just one person to tell me how I’m supposed to feel okay about that. In my heart of hearts I’m just so sad.

The Galapagos Islands are an active volcano hot bed. The islands move at rapid speeds, they survive for millions of years and then slowly prepare to die. As their land turns barren most of the native species leave to live on the other islands. But the problem is that some of them have evolved on that island. The Waved Albatross and Sea Lions still travel to the desolate seaside cliffs of Espanola’s  south side. The Waved Albatross, is a huge bird with an eight foot wingspan. They fly for six months to reach the island once a year. The way back to those cliffs is ancestral and instinctual.

These birds can live for up to fifty years and they pair for life. They will wait on the shore for days until their partner to arrive from another part of the world. Once a year the world’s entire population of Waved Albatross are on this island at once. A blanket of white dots stretched across the rocky terrain. When the mates find each other they start executing a dance of sorts where they clack their beaks together in a way that reminds me of the gentleness that takes over when playing swords with a kid, gentle but playful. They take turns incubating their egg, each one sitting for two weeks at a time. They raise the baby and then fly their separate ways. Until they meet again the following spring.

That’s what this love feels like. Like coming home. An old familiar home that I can feel in my bones. This is simply not our first spring together.

I would fly for six months without stopping to see you again.

Mothered

soulfood

To dip your toe into the mystic,

the divine,

the ephemeral

is to lose your breath.

To calm the seas of your would be plans.

To adjust your binoculars to single vision.

 

 

It is knowing that you are not in control

but refusing to surrender.

It is begging for mercy and sustenance.

 

It is midnight prayers for

The lessons to get easier

And for you to remain open enough to learn,

To do,

To allow space.

To move on to the next.

 

The metaphysical elephant in our room

Is your mother.

Is she part of me?

Did you attract that?

Or she first?

 

I’m scared to answer these questions.

This notion, spoken out loud,

for the first time sent chills up my spine,

sent fingers thrusting into ears

an audible, “Don’t say that”.

 

I’m not sure that we’ll ever be ready to know or

Fully entertain the possibility.

If it is so.

Then know that the true love,

The purest of energy,

Never dies.

It lives on and it returns.

 

You said once, not to say that I loved you unconditionally

for it’s a love that only a parent can claim.

Well, I do.

And it doesn’t scare me

it never will.

Sweet Girl of Mine

Ever Sophia, Love, soulfood

I look at you and you stare back every time

with those same huge brown eyes

that I fell madly in love with seven years ago

or was it twenty-seven?

 

A piece of me has always known that you are a reincarnation

of your exquisite great grandmother.

The joy that, that qualifier would have brought her.

Half of me thinks if you could have only known.

 

Because it’s hard for that half to imagine her any other way

Any other being.

 

To imagine her being mine instead

of me being hers.

 

Though, in every way

I will always be yours.