Nurture
i did not have a mother to teach me to mother
i have believed for a long time
because i had no teacher
i could never learn
all it is
to be a good mother to you
i’ve believed that
by this, you would suffer
and in your suffering
so would i
but you
dear ones
are teaching me
your light has
permeated
illuminated
shadowed
sought out
the heights and depths
of my own being
which has cast glow on
the peculiar contours of your own
lately, i’ve been asking myself;
even if i had a mother to teach me
the skills of mothering,
would she have known
how to teach me to mother you?
how could she teach me
what she does not know?
to mother you
is to learn of you
to be curious of
the mysteries that pulsate
within your galaxy
to sway in the tragedies of your sorrow
to soften in the tremors of your distress
to shimmer beneath the sparks of your delight
to wonder in the spectacular of your becoming
to mother you
is to be drawn into the dance
of your grand masquerade
and settle beside you
as you lay rest your charms
in the ease of your being
to mother you is
to fall
helplessly
in love with you
as you
come tumbling into existence
you dear ones
are teaching me
how
to mother
the unknown
as the unknown
generously
spontaneously
simply
is there any other way
to mother
an emerging universe?