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.
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
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