life/death/birth
Wise women say that to be pregnant is to be at the gate of life and death.
She is speaking to the heartbreaking truth that some babies will die, may their souls be kept, but not only this.
What she says in the hollow between the words, in the valleys where water flows is that when you become a Giver of Life, you have been remembered by a forgotten sister. She comes visiting.
She wants a place at your birthing gate and a place at your funeral.
She expects this place to be set, and she wants you to listen
listen to the wise old trees pour their nutrients from crown to root, food for the hungry, for the young and the weak. A forest is a family. When the old growth, still living, gives her life force away to the young trees, she is mothering. When she gives up her body and lays decomposing on the forest floor, she is still mothering. There is no separation of life and death in the forest.
She wants you to listen
The whales are giving birth right now, your birthing waters are the same waters the whale baby is swimming in. The whale baby embryo that floats in the void and finally takes root in the red soil of the whale womb is indistinguishable from your embryo, your children’s first shape is the same shape.
Death wants you listening.
Setting her a place, you ignore the slander campaign against her, you take her in. Smelling, tasting touching, feeling, you see her for what she is.
You are looking at yourself.
You, woman, who sings the song of life that orchestrates all creation
You, woman who stands at the gates of death with strawberries and roses,
When you love like a mother, death takes on a whole new meaning
I love you I love you I love you It is forgiven
You, woman, who heard and understood the forest before the forest was known, who suspected the dark brown cycle of soil was the same cycle as yours, blood red.
You, woman, who shares a womb with the whales and is her voice.
What would the world be, with death at the table?
What would the world be, Mother,
With all of you at the table?
