Poem Hunter
PD ( / )


Open wide, my sisters.
Prepare your hearts
To make welcome the light
That would ask us
To become mothers,
Bringers of the dawn.

Release your burdens
In this human condition,
For the time is now.
Seven generations
Of unborn ancestors
Depend upon our attention.

Eldership has come
To the autumn of our medicine.
Let each word represent
What we would teach our family.
Here is where matriarchy must begin.

Our Grandmothers are dying
As moments slip
Into eternity,
Yielding the future unto us.
Transcend your fears
So we may attain our purpose.

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Comments (3)

The term wordsmith applies perfectly to you, Pamela
Some interesting ideas here, Pamela. Nice one.
very well written the old generation moves on the new become the old life is a never ending journey ORGY ASM