Mother Memory

Birthed now an orphan by the singing tongues of mercurial Sea Held by the long arms of memory Weaned on grief

Me all salt tears and mist like smoke You in my lap stardusted and ash Filling a mussel shell Freed from our confinements Too old for language

While the great eye of sky Wept I let the form that Formed me slide into The formless hands of the sea ~ * ~ These past past few weeks I was on a very initiatory journey to the Oregon coast where I scattered my Mom's ashes at s