The arms of the Mother

Gate of Heaven

you are round and open,

beckoning.

Your hands are raised in blessing

blessings rain down on our uplifted faces,

Mother of the All,

you contain the answer to our deepest longings.

Fill me with hope for the new world,

a world of pervasive peace and unmitigated justice,

where swords are hammered into plowshares,

and our leaders sow vegetable seeds.

Lady of the Mountain,

I have struggled for your summit.

The ascent has been harrowing,

but I have grown strong on my journey.

Now I see the world as you see it,

broken and beautiful,

flawed and perfect.

-  Mirabai Starr from Mother of God, Similar to fire

An old furniture polish tin turned into a shrine

Give yourself over to the arms of the Mother.

Oh child of the father's house;  you have never

known such sweet Mercy

as can only be known in the arms of the Mother.

Her hands drip blessings, waiting for the asking.

Put down the weariness and dust of the ordinary world

as you turn your mind off and your heart on.

Leave the darkened room of the intellect and its

self-obsessed self-pitying behind and step through

into the garden of the physical senses and delight.

Ask for your own arms and hands to be grown back

so that you can partake of the paradise which is Earth.

Take off the blindfold of patriarchy and the lies of history,

and raise your arms to the Gate of Heaven.

She is the round Gate of Heaven.

Impossible for the intellect to wrap itself around that

vision, strangling its light and passion into dust.

Now is the time beloved, now.

Do not wait to become convinced

as the heart is born convinced of the sweet nectar

of the Mother's love. 

blessings

Hettienne