When she hugs me

and Love dissolves my arteries

in delicious agony, I write poems.

I kneel down and Demeter

listens to my prayers.

She purifies me as I embrace

The Eleusinian Mysteries,

weaving words of out of rites

and beauty.

Love is the great revelation

in life, the enigma not deciphered

yet, the great power over death.

She is my Persephone and what

binds us is passion and rapture.

When I am in her arms, the fields

are covered with flowers:

she fertilizes my soul with her divine

light and I am a lily by the pond,

and I am in bloom.

She hugs me

and I am Mother Moon

rising in love again.

Karla Bardanza

For my daughter Yasmim: the daughter of the Moon.

1 comment:

  1. I truly felt my own mothers embrace in reading this. I love the imagery of holding a field of flowers. Your images in your poems are delightful. I felt hugged and loved reading this. Yasmin is blessed to have such a caring and loving mom. Blessings... Flower