When she finished weaving the animals and the sea,
she sat down, appreciating her threads of love,
thinking of the delicate delights above
as the waxing moon dissolved her memory.

Her eyes embraced the mountains and the rain
while her heart did laugh at its magical wings,
contemplating the big and small things
her tears conceived when her soul cried again.

For some minutes she understood her power:
the universe expanded before her eyes,
she summoned the clouds and the butterflies,
quietening the thunder, caressing the hour.

Her silk hands created deserts and stars
as she whispered her words of passion,
holding a child full of compassion
when Venus aligned with Pluto and Mars.

I look at her, kneeling down and praying
for she is the beauty my mother taught me to see.
She is my mother too, my answer, my key
to open the door where a little girl is still playing.

She is the mysteries of the waters, the valley green.
The truth I honor with pleasure and dignity,
the path I walk every day with integrity
as I bow to the light seen and unseen.

Karla Bardanza

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