Our Mother

We gladly took from Her but little gave

Of self and dreams and darknesses we held

And chose not to reveal although She saw

The depths of our deceptions and yet poured

The wine of grace on our anointed heads.

She bore intransigence and met with love

Our human imperfections, chased our fears

And placed a golden chain around our hearts

To bind the soul to God that we might feel

The Presence that abides through all our lives,

Protects and nourishes the spirit's growth,

Through death prepares the advent of our change,

In sorrow is the comforter who bears

All pain and grief as Hers and sends us bliss

To fill the emptiness within our breasts.

Shall we then consecrate ourselves anew,

Accept the gifts She graciously bequeaths,

Reject subconscious pulls, the old desires,

That falsely satisfy but cannot fill

The being's thirst for truth, its need of light;

Resolve to recognize Her joy in all,

To fevered mind the peace of Heaven bring

And seek the spirit's rightful destiny.