I had a dream of the Mother hugging me
Singing unknown ancient melodies
Proclaiming me the Mother Tree
Confused by the unexpected honor
I said nothing.
To give the Mother space
I moved with the breeze as
Voices in the distance came near
“No don’t go!” she cried,
Pulling herself closer.
Swearing she felt
A breath of healing pulsating
From my deep roots
charging straight into her.
“My body is changing now” she whispered
“It is hard to admit it, because I was built strong
But I need you to hold me up for now”
She called me Ama and my arms branches.
Stroking them as she laughed
And She thanked the Mother for holding her.
A sister came before the others
Sweetly reminding us, we were
In the shelter of our woods
Our sacred room;
Pulling aside a veil of growth and
Pointing she showed us,
If we tried we could
See the sea in the distance.
Through the canopy
A young girl’s silhouette
Played against the late day sky.
“Why is the sun setting, it just rose?”
The Mother asked in a faint gasp
Her words were muffled by my chest;
I hugged back into her the best I could
Only my leaves shaking in the breeze, answered back.
Then after a moment of deep still silence
“Ahh I see what it is now, I am becoming the Grandmother!”
The sister lovingly ran her hands along us
Arms circling tenderly,
Fingers deep in the crevices of the damp bark
Lost in the memories of youth
Of sitting in the folds of roots
Looking up into the leaves
Laced with endless sky.
By now the other sisters had arrived
A warm energy came with them
“There is a new mother!” one exclaimed
“Bring the gifts for the grandmother,” said another.
The songs came first,
Spontaneous and echoing
Each voice clashing discord and weaving harmony
Magnificently reflecting the stories
Of all the great-grandmothers
Passed down for centuries
Each sister approached with gifts
To honor the new grandmother
Who wept and laughed against me.
In the buzz of the woods
Drums vibrated the ground
“It is the Brothers!” yelled the sisters
“No, this is sacred, send them away!” screamed another.
It was then that I addressed the assembly
With calmness I replied
For all in the wood to hear:
“It is time for the men. Let them join us.
Let them honor the grandmother.
Let them bring their gifts.
They bring the boys, we need our sons.”
Rumbles rippled through the crowd until the grandmother spoke
“Let the brothers approach, they come in love.
Let them meet the new Mother, our Ama.
The voice of your mother speaks truth,
She holds now our sacred wisdom.
For I am her and she is me,
have you not noticed, we are one?”
The Grandmother gestured to the ground
Our roots were now
The vibrant gathering of women,
Looking on in awe and curiosity
And each brought with them a gift
The Grandfather and Father
Carrying in their hands, new promises.
Up close to the Mother and Grandmother,
They could feel the pulse of life and love
Feeling small, but not insignificant.
Gently they placed the seeds
Into the rich fertile earth
Between the wood roots.
The father sang a song softly
Until the brother’s knew to join
An invitation for life to grow
In the blanketed safety
Of the new Mother Tree.
Brothers walked closer
They adorned me,
With gifts of promise
To return for the next Mother
And the one after
To live as honorable warriors
Living to keep the world
A place where the children
Could always dream.
I felt overcome, filled by
Balance and integrity:
Both the men and women
Had shown up
And brought the children with them
Great celebration followed
Women, men and children
Community embraced as family
Ceremonial fires were lit
Traditional songs and dances
Re-found themselves around, over and through
Our blazing sacred bonfire
In the outer circle
Exhausted, children watched
Or slowly fell into deep sleep
On the comfort of the elders laps
“I must rest, if I will be ready
For tomorrow” she whispered
And quietly she nestled in deeper.
Her breath had slowed down so much
I had thought the grandmother had
Instead I saw she was sleeping
Finally able to relax
Knowing we were able
To care for the children and her
I stood all night watching in amazement
Shadows of light played against my trunk
Illuminating thick scars
Ever so present
But healed beautifully
I felt exposed, yet for once