Grandmother holds me

Grandmother holds me
her bosom boulders
her chin hairs
mighty pines

even covered in snow
she blankets me with warmth
strokes my forehead
with soft wind

lets my tears fall
Into her meadowed lap
sometimes soft
sometimes sobs

watering the great
alpine garden
of this sacred land
where wisdom keepers

have made their medicine
for millennia
sitting in their grandmother’s
lap and magic

return

 when my heart

feels too big to hold

i return to the land

let my tears

water the ground

wind stroking my hair

in Mama's lap

birds calling me to

be still

be here

Gaia holds my 

anger and grief

she feels it too

all mothers do

Travelers

You were never
my North Star

but a fellow traveler
a cheerful companion

who held my hand
on a rocky path

who sang me songs
to pass the time

and kissed my cheeks
so sweetly

that I almost forgot
that your destination

was never the same
as my own

The Washboard

Her knuckles were raw.
She'd been stooping over the
basin scrubbing his clothes
for hours.

Her mind was numb,
lost in the abrasive thump thump
thump of blood-soaked cotton on
the washboard.

With a handful of soap and
a tub full of suds, she scrubbed
her soul and washed away
the loss.