Mother’s Day Blessing

I sat, watching them move through the water.
The endless circles widening around their awe.
Their supple limbs kicking in all directions.
Their joyus nerves rippling out across the ocean floor.

I sat, motionless.
My body ablaze with delight.
Watching their bodies slip deeper and deeper.
A familiar returning to our great mother, awash in autumn light.

I prayed that it will be these moments I draw near, as I pass over.
I prayed that I can remain soft-skinned enough to carry this tenderness along.
I prayed that I will remember - through lifetimes - the exquisite hum of my own mother’s song.

I have grown babies and birthed babies and ached at the loss of three.
My heart has stilled and swollen, many times.
I’ve become a gardener whose learnt to plant new seeds and yield wisdom from aging trees.

These openings and closings have ripened me, grown a capacity to submerge deeper into life's well.
I am willing to meet what arrives before me.
I am willing to wake and remember so that I can see.
I am willing to be here, supple-limbed and full-bodied, so that my heart's casing can widen to swallow the sea.

I live for the wonder of our togetherness.
To curl their body's warmth into mine.
To feel our heart's beating slowly.
To devote myself to the precious nature of time.

I know that I do not own them.
They are not mine to behold.
Though I pray that when I let go it is them, my precious sons, who continue to swim in the untouched waters of my Soul.

I pray that whatever form I take after, that it is shaped and coloured by all that exists.
Measured purely by the immeasurable gift of what it has felt like to be seaside, together, like this.