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MOTHER MOON by Krista Katrovas

 This poem was written after a recent visit with my mother…

 She is my greatest teacher, as is death, and with each visit with her I am more and more humbled and deeply so grateful for the mother/daughter connection that we share.

My mother taught me at a very young age to honor ourselves, and also our connection to Mother Moon.

 She is my Mother Moon. "No matter where we are, we will always share the same moon," she once told me when we were missing one another.

 I know in years to come, when my Mom no longer possesses earthly form, that Mother Moon will continue to connect me to her. And though I hope that day is many, many, moons from now, this poem is in honor of her and our connection to Mother Moon. 

Mother Moon

She sat sipping air
through the tube in her nose
that stretches across
the length of her house.
She pushed her walker,
with tennis balls
attached to its feet
making it easier
for her to slide
over multiple surfaces.

Some see her as frail,
nearing her end,
but within her mind, heart, and spirit,
lies the history
of a strong woman,
one woman’s journey
with feeding seven hungry mouths
without a man to help her.

The history of her care,
how she juggled
three jobs, a house,
colds, chicken pox,
tonsil surgeries,
broken arms, limbs, stiches,
hormonal changes,
all that comes with raising
seven children on one’s own
can be seen
in her prematurely aged 72 years.

She, once Goddess, now Crone,
pushes her walker to the fridge
for cranberry juice
then shuffles back
to her seat
at the end of the table
across from where her father once sat.
She's both man and woman,
bread-winner,
and child bearer,
disciplinarian
and spirit teacher.

She taught her girls
to honor the moon,
the moon within,
and the moon
she had them sit beneath with her
on clear Kentucky summer nights.
She taught her children well.
How to cleanse their third eyes
simply by observing the moon
crossing the sky.

She’s seen nearly 870 Full Moons,
with each one cleansing more deeply
the eye she taught her daughters
to view the world with,
the same eye she saw
each of her children with,
a mother’s third eye.

Even now,
from behind her walker,
with oxygen attached,
she looks at her children
with the moon’s eye,
at every fault, mistake,
and flaw,
with compassionate vision,
seeing only spirit
beneath,

and, within us all.
~

Krista Katrovas (E-RYT) has dedicated herself to the practice, study and teaching of yoga since discovering it in 1999 after dancing rigorously as a dance major in college. Krista has had scores of articles on Yoga, Wellness, and Spirituality published in nationally regulated magazines. She has a regular column at Elephant Journal here. She has taught Yoga in Prague every July since 2009 and has been sought to teach in Kuwait, Canada, Virginia, California, Kentucky, and Florida. She calls Kalamazoo, Michigan home, where she teaches Yoga, Meditation, offers Spiritual guidance, and practices Shamanism. She has cats, though also loves dogs, all animals. Her power animal is the Snowy Owl. Visit her yoga website here.


~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~  

Comments

  1. Gorgeous poem. Very moving. Makes me think of my mom in honor of this New Moon rising tonight.

    ReplyDelete

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