Mother Mare

It startled me at first, the down and inward tow
That shocked the breath to hold and body to resist as my
Ungrounded being yearned up and out toward what I then believed was
Precious and preferred.
But now, ah now, I welcome the drop and drag that reels me
Into the deep blue locker of embodied centre,

Where treasure’s harboured brilliant and rare
That none but I can fathom.
Beneath, the scintillating rock solid to sense
And each shell ripe with fresh pearl of the Mother.
She breaks me open,
Bears me down salty waters,
Until I slither forth like seaweed.
Through tidal hatch by swelling compass to waft and weft
Wherever inspiration draws me, fluid free and fleet,
Arched on the neck of the white mare – seahorse,
Inhaling the light liquid air.