She calls to the world
with green leaves open,
her voice in the creeks
and rivers running fast.
She calls to the cities
of the proud
and the mind-made
with grief and forgiveness
anchored in stone.
Her voice is eternal
on the parade
of our passing
and while we are here
we yet may listen.
photograph by Sandy Brown Jensen
Yes.
Yes, she does.. My ear is to that wind that carries her voice, while there is yet time. Beautiful.
Listen, indeed.
And we have to let the ever nbusy mind slow down so we can first see the nature all around us, and then maybe we can let our ears hear the birds and the little ones nearby. They do have a message for us. Let us hear, and then we can do what we came her to do. and then to do it simply..
The Mother calls to me in many ways constantly and I listen as I Choose. I Love the Mother’s many Gifts. LU Snowy
Let us listen to Her speak loudly and murmuring softly……know Her ways! Thank you, my friend, for elaborating Her language!
~ Her heart calls ~ Her heart speaks ~ Her heart sees ~ Her heart manifests ~ ~ ~ Her heart ~ Her Heart ~ Her Heart ~
Don, this lovely poem is pregnant with immediate and transcendental meaning. She is coming for her world and for her Children! She is coming for what belongs to Her, and She is not alone. He is coming with Her. They come together. There is nothing sentimental about Her Heart, Her Voice, Her Presence or the fierceness of Her coming now – long She has called and few listened. There is yet a little time. Listen!