mother.
for my mama, for all mothers, for Mother Earth, for the feminine & nurturing in all of us.
she is the serpent
she who sheds
she who protects
she whose belly
is rooted in the Earth
…
she is the gatekeeper
the one inside
guarding the wild
the muddy
the menstrual
the sexual
the primordial
let her rise
let her move
let her create
as she was meant to
watch her -
full as the tide
ripe as the blooming peony
steady as the jaguar matriarch
in her rightful territory
…
she is the original alchemist
turning cells into life
turning water into milk
turning love into fire
turning blank spaces into home
turning daily routines into seasons
of belonging
…
she is the flame
that can never be extinguished
she holds the codes -
of creation
of the lineages
of the stretch beyond time
beyond space
…
she is the wolf
you feed under your skin
she is the bones
of your grandmother’s grandmother
the reach of your arms
the span of your hips
the stride of your step
the curl of your lips
…
she is the scream
and the silence
the song
that shaped your bones
that gathered your scattered pieces
and gave them back to you
in order
…
she is not one body
she is not one gender
she is possibility
she is the dark before the light
she is the fertile void
she is the threshold
she is the in-between
between what was and what will be
between collapse
and rising.
…
she is weather
she surrounds
she shapes
she leaves no trace
she braids grief into her hair
and still
she dances
she boils bones
into broth and balm
she feeds us
the marrow of memory
she is the eye of the hurricane
the softest part of the storm
the safest place
i’ve ever called home.
Author’s Note:
Leading up to Mother's Day, I wanted to explore how we relate to mothers—not just as caretakers, but as powerful, creative, transformational beings.
In a time when so much is demanded of us, it’s easy to overlook the everyday miracles mothers perform.
This poem is shaped by many voices, named and unnamed, who have impacted the way I understand the maternal force.
Some of the language was inspired by the writing of Xochi Balfour on Substack, particularly her reflections on the mother as serpent, gatekeeper, jaguar, and original alchemist—who turns cells into life, water into milk, love into fire.
Other lines and phrases in this piece draw from or paraphrase the work of the following writers and poets, whose work resonated deeply with me and I want to acknowledge with profound gratitude:
I am the wolf that you feed under your skin. I am the flesh of your wild mother, the bones of your grandmother’s grandmother.
— inspired by Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Women Who Run With the Wolves“It’s in the reach of my arms, the span of my hips, the stride of my step, the curl of my lips.”
— Maya Angelou, from Phenomenal Woman“She gather me, man. The pieces I am, she gather them and give them back to me in all the right order.”
— Toni Morrison, from BelovedThe mother is not a single body or gender. She is that which births possibility. The blackness before light. The fertile void.
— inspired by Bayo Akomolafe, from These Wilds Beyond Our Fences
I have done my best to honor these sources and braid them together with my own experience and ancestral / folk ideas passed down through generations.
For my mama, for all mothers, for Mother Earth, for the feminine and nurturing in all of us, happy Mother’s Day. ❤️
Beautiful. Thank you.
I really love this <3