My Mother, My Goddess

Smoky Mountains

Mother, I need You today.
I need to know my Nature
Is fed by Yours,
As Your rivers are fed by streams.
I need the strength of Your stone,
The patience of Your trees.
The sharpness of Your winter wind
And persistence of Your summer heat.
Steadiness of mountains, faith of saplings.
The sureness of migration to a southern home,
That Mother Nature takes care of her own.

Generational Burdens


Hang on to those who have fallen or passed on,

But don’t remain there with them.

Don’t allow then to inhibit your growth – it’s a disservice to your soul.


What is left with you is to be used as a source of strength.

Draw from your deepest resources, respect your own pace,

Continue to grow in all directions, in breadth, height and depth.


The mark of your ancestors you will forever carry,

They will transform into a thing of beauty to honor,

Instead of a weight to keep you small.

Thank you, Emily

“After great pain a formal feeling comes– The nerves sit ceremonious like tombs; The stiff Heart questions–was it He that bore? And yesterday–or centuries before?
The feet, mechanical, go round A wooden way Of ground, or air, or ought, Regardless grown, A quartz contentment, like a stone.
This is the hour of lead Remembered if outlived, As freezing persons recollect the snow– First chill, then stupor, then the letting go.”

Thank you Ms. Emily Dickinson for penning these words – and to all those who’ve kept them alive.

Posting here for purely selfish reasons. I feel a nudge to keep this poem close. Premonotion? Maybe. Does that scare me? Not at the moment, as it’s been a very difficult year, yet all I’ve needed to persevere has been Divinely provided.

As It is to be, so shall It be.