Skip to main content

REJOICE OLD MOTHERS! by Jennifer Hawley-Zechlin


Motherhood begins with the birth of a child, or so I thought…

 This year, as my daughter turned 18, I was struck with the idea that Motherhood is an on-going continuum - one that spanned generations and reaches back to the beginning of time and forward into eternity.

Our children grow, and leave home, and some will eventually join us in the journey of motherhood: a journey that we are all a part of. This poem speaks of that journey - or at least a small part of it.


Rejoice Old Mothers!

Rejoice Old Mothers! 
Rejoice and wear white. 
Delight in your sagging breasts, 
once round and full, 
now flat against your long chest. 
Your babies round and full instead. 

Rejoice Old Mothers! 
Rejoice and wear green. 
Take pride in the ache setting in, 
and the wrinkles forming on your hands. 
Hands that have tended gardens 
and buttoned coats. 
Hands that have held the future and rocked her to sleep. 

Rejoice Old Mothers! 
Rejoice and wear brown. 
Admire your aging face. 
Eyes still bright, now with drooping lids, 
lines turning to crevices all too soon. 
Framed by tufts of gray. 
This is the face that bravely squared the world 
and turned toward the Sun on Summer holidays. 
These are the eyes that sparkled brighter than the Christmas lights 
and watched as babies were weaned to solid food 
and weaned again to Life with solid footing, 
Before becoming young mothers - 
and fathers - 
Someday. 

Rejoice Old Mothers! 
Rejoice and wear purple. 
Wrap yourselves in cloaks of velvet 
And crown yourselves with golden gratitude. 
For you, Old Mothers, are the queens of this world, 
And the heirs to your throne shall someday wear yellow 
and hold your legacy in their hearts and homes.
Rejoice Old Mothers! Rejoice!


Jennifer Hawley-Zechlin: “I am an amateur poet, forever student, lover of life, and professional dreamer and thinker.  I live with my partner of 24 years and our 16 year-old daughter in the mountains of Southern California where we are kept by a couple of dogs, a silky black cat, and a hen with attitude. Professionally, I have just begun seminary classes in addition to a couple of classes for pleasure.  I work as an ordained chaplain for a large international inter-faith community and am involved with a non-residential monastic order based on creativity, meditative practice, and soul friendships as a founding member where I am helping to form the curriculum and program of formation. I read far too many books, experiment with painting and drawing, and sing, badly and joyfully, in the middle of the night. I enjoy anything that connects me to life itself, feeling strongly that everything is a bit interconnected and truly awe producing, if only we can open ourselves to seeing the beauty in it all.  I can be found on Facebook here and more of my writing can be found at The Anthology of Oaken Grace.

*For submission guidelines, click here.*

Comments

  1. One of my all time favourite poems. Thank you for sharing!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

IMAGINE A WOMAN by Patricia Lynn Reilly

  This poem invites you to look upon yourself with loving kindness… Gazing at your own true reflection, you will discover that everything you have longed for “out there” is already within you! I invite you to love your creativity fiercely. Faithfully plant seeds, allowing under-the-ground dormant seasons, nurturing your creative garden with love and gratitude. In the fullness of time, the green growing things thrust forth from the ground. It's a faithful, trustworthy process. AND it takes time and patience.  Blessed is the fruit of your creative womb! I invite you to trust your vision of the world and express it. With wonder and delight, paint a picture, create a dance, write a book, and make up a song. To give expression to your creative impulses is as natural as your breathing. Create in your own language, imagery, and movement. Follow no script. Do not be limited by the customary way things have been expressed. Your creative intuition is original. Gather

IMBOLC by Caroline Mellor

The inspiration for this poem came after I watched a magical winter sunset and full moonrise from the top of Firle Beacon in the South Downs... Unusually for me, I wrote the poem quite quickly and changed it very little before publishing it – perhaps the energies were working through my pen! Imbolc is the mid-point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. It’s a fire festival which I particularly love because of its associations with Brigid, the Celtic Mother Goddess of arts and crafts, clear sight, healing, inspiration and nurturance of creative talents – something which, through my writing, I am always trying to connect with.  I also love Imbolc because, with so much darkness and negativity in the world today, it is a time for hope, potential, visioning and initiation. With love and blessings as the light returns. Photography by Chanel Baran IMBOLC    by Caroline Mellor I am the dream of awakening. I am the returning of the night.  I am the tough green

WINTER SOLSTICE: A GIFT OF LOVE by Carolyn Riker

I’ve had several days now of alone time… It is unusual and a gift that I couldn’t see until I breathed it. I have been able to watch the sun’s rise through the grey of dawn and smile at the flickers of frost melting on the waving boughs of evergreen. It’s unique to follow daylight as it traverses the tempo of a cat’s soft slumbering purr. Night comes swifter and the glow of candles and the flames of fire comfort me more than the steady stream of always-doing-more. As much as I resisted, I needed this break. I had no idea how much my body was trying to tell me   slow down   until the exhaustion settled in around my joints. My eyes swam in molasses. Heaviness of I-can’t-hold-out-much-long, walked me to the throne of my nest. It’s winter’s gift of self-nurturing and love. It’s been a quiet proclamation of femininity and a need for comfort foods. Lemon crisps and cranberry, white-chocolate shortbread dipped in tea; I felt a hint of being pampered without