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Motherhood

Every fiber took a millennia for the old oak to form- 

Their purpose now, 

Is to carry the weight of a childhood.

She remembers the singing birds of spring time, the cracks and whistles of trees in the winter wind.

Now she lies in shards.

Though after many many years, she no longer can tell what is past and what is present.

She says she is at peace.

Her body creaks and whines as little feet paddle her worn body.

Soil seeps into her fractured skin over the years.

The child runs inside after play and 

The sweet, powdery scent of wildflowers drifts over her 

And it reminds her of the forest.

Soft toes caress her battered flesh, and suddenly she once again can feel the moss wrapping a blanket around her.

Though she knows pain ever too intimately, 

She loves.

Oh, how she loves.

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Unknown, Bear

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Found photo from Ransom Riggs' 'Talking Pictures' on Mental Floss.

"This is the way my wife always treats me. I am saying to her- 'ah cut it out,'"

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everything eats and is eaten, time is fed

INGYDAR – ADRIANNE LENKER

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Francois-Xavier Lalanne's 'Sheep', c.1960's