Mythical Motherhood

When I was young I always dreamt and wished to be in those mythical fairy stories.

Be a healer, a mender, a fighter.
Then motherhood came to me as it has to all such humans. Swiftly and fiercely.

I have felt like I have lost myself to changing diapers, feeding hungry tummies, entertaining the babies.

But it has dawned on me, just now, that I am very much living this dream.

I am a mender

A leader

A healer

A fierce and fighting mama bear

I am the entertainer, the bard, of my wee one. I weave beautiful, magical stories to tickle the imagination and wonder only small children have.

I teach him to listen to the wind as it winds through the trees and the leaves.

I teach him to see and respect the woodland creatures.

I teach him to care for the earth and care for the creatures around him.

I have been gifted the most magical position of all. Mother.

Into the forest I go

“And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul”

I slip out of the real world, letting it drop from me like a silk robe.

I slide into the twilight of the trees. They’re always calling to me like a lost lover.
The moss beneath my feet. The dew on my toes.
Branches darkly reaching down and around their territory.
Embracing me.
I feel the life of the forest, so much bigger than I, whisper through the breeze.
The moon has risen and caresses my skin.
The moons light reflects off the water of the lake throwing itself onto my fingers and chest. Twinkling hues of purple and blue.

Could it be true?
That reflection.
She is me and I am her. But we are worlds apart.

Two beasts, and one is always howling, longing, scratching, and clawing its way to the surface of this place.
This in between.
I smile at the moon, throw my head back and laugh.

Hello old friend.

I am home.