Awakening

My mother-

I see her naked

her hair

loose , tumbling down her back

her body , exposed ,

the wrinkles and the

Mastectomy scars….

The  flaccid single breast

And I see, not my mother

Not my mother who battles the tremors of Parkinson’s

Not my mother who’s arthritic bones creak..

But I see the limbs , of a

beautiful primordial goddess

Free of disease ,free of limitations

She is to me...

Woman ,  whole ,

once an object of desire ,

once a vessel bearing life ,from those thighs....

and not just a bearer of crosses

In those frown lines

And not just a stooped shoulder of sacrifices

and I want to just scream

At her...

to worship

That body

That she is sacred

As are her wants

And needs

And not give up

because she is

my mother ,

But not just that

She is also - not just that .

She is … all those who came before her

And she is

She is also me.