Ancient Mother by Sara Wright

On the path
through the pines
I see clumps of
moss scattered,
an old tree trunk
is raked as if
with claws;
clumps of downed bark
food for the earth.
My heart soars.
Wild hope pours
through me like honey.

Guns split
the air with
with fiery blasts –
machines scream.
Trickery abounds.
Acting out their man
Hatred and Rage,
supported by ‘their’ women,
(betrayers of our kind)
so many have lost access
to being human.

Power and Ego are all.

Never wrong, or accountable
Apology is an anathema –
Compassion a quality
without meaning.
Always “right”
no matter how ignorant,
He spews directives –
incapable of honest exchange.
Resorting to boring
platitudes – repetitive lies,
He imagines his nose
doesn’t give him away.

A woman is only
an appendage
to be used.
A social secretary
a cook – or selfless mother
she’s supposed to
remember his birthday
when he forgets hers.
These are the jobs of women.
But the worst lies
Under The Covers –
“Put out” he says
with disgusting distain.
And if she refuses
she pays….
Ah, the stupid tantrums
of men who throw
spewing dog
cans across
the airport floor.

There are exceptions.
Both men and boys
who are wise
in the ways of Nature.
Having lived in the Forest,
they learned the art of listening.
She taught them
how to be men.
The word integrity
has meaning –
Compassion is strength.
“Protect the old people,
the innocent,”
they demonstrate
with their actions.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m worried about
your breathing…”
Women of all ages
rank high on their scale.
Questions like this
bring me to tears.

Oh, I see Her now
hiding in the tree,
casting an ancient
and powerful spell
to protect them,
– these men
whose humility
stands before them.

These men
who know

how to love.

                                                                                                                      Sara is a naturalist, ethologist ( a person who studies animals in their natural habitats) (former) Jungian Pattern Analyst, and a writer. She publishes her work regularly in a number of different venues and is presently living in Maine.

Author: Sara Wright

I am a writer and naturalist who lives in a little log cabin by a brook with my two dogs and a ring necked dove named Lily B. I write a naturalist column for a local paper and also publish essays, poems and prose in a number of other publications. View all posts by Sara Wright