the cave drawings

The cave drawings,  
I still remember-  
and the ancient scripts found,    
quickly re-sketched to match OUR forms,  
quickly rewrote with the black and white markings  
of OUR night while bathing in the holy amniotic fluid  
of creativity, dreams and    
romantic ideas.  
My youth, let it be owned and tenderly held always    
in that light.  
   
Other memories exist in the akashic record of my past.  
Violence and losses of every kind,    
realities that have shattered and confessed me both before    
the Lord.  
Bigger forms revealed now, forms that I  
fit inside a thousand times,  
and words I don't want to rewrite    
because they prove my greatest hopes true.    
Majestic faith laying upon a gut-wrenching desire to see myself alive.  
   
Instead of longing I now sit still  
in my own tiny cave of findings growing life inside myself.  
dying some every hour,
and yet so much more alive than ever,  
with an instinctive yet profoundly intentional choice  
to be that  
which I want to be known as mother.    
I am learning who she is so far only  
by what she leaves behind.  
   
The marveling, awestruck seduction of promised mysteries- once glowed like a desert fire in me, summoned me like a trance journey.  
Now I stand up very close before each unknown delivered,
vastness beyond all my dreams,  
with a slower draw  
and very few words,  
my gaze wide open to the treasure
entering in  
gentle as can be,
day by day going softer around the edges,
patient, honest,    
waiting, watching, praying.