Standing Still.

At night, when the stars are quiet, and the moon is dark,
	I can hear the surf crash,
		colliding with cliffs determined never to give way to water.

And I am One with this stubbornness - 
	I remember!

I feel wind.
	shake back my hair, and shiver -

My robes bollow back and I am caught for a moment, 
	believing that I am one with the wind,
		one with the Sea,
			One with the earth, and the cliff surrounding me!

I Stand Still - 

Still, and silent!
	and every shred of soul within me rushes forth to meet the tide!

I crash! 
	I toss! 
		I turn!	

My heart is one with the sea and the storm - 

I call unto the Heavens and they respond with Thunder,
	the requisite reply to my urging and my need.

I stand Still.

	Even in these days when memory is weak, and my heart is full with tears.

Can you See?

Mother, will you take a moment to know me?
	Just for a minute, 
will you step outside yourself 
	to see this child that you have born and raised, 
and who you do not know.

Just for a moment. Not for a lifetime,
	or even for an hour.

Just for a moment, walk with me,
	talk with me,
		see me and believe me.

I will not seek your favor, 
	nor your joyous laughter
		 in these days when hearts have trouble singing,
			and when souls fail to find release in the day to day dealings of men.

Rather, I will take merely a moment.
	One moment, all to me,
		all to know me - 
			to SEE me.

To free me,
	so that I may go my way with the knowledge that for an instant, 
you have seen and acknowledged 
		this child you wrought.


We kept names, 
	when we could not keep more.
	Names, and names alone.

We carried them, 
	kept them close at hand
when there was no room, nor space for more.
	We called them.
Sometimes wrote them down,
	in places near our hearts,
			or on our backs.

Still other times, 
	we held them in our arms,
	and placed them -
		in the minds, 
			and on the faces, 
				and in the hopes and dreams,
		of our Children.


	We kept them,
		when every other hope was lost.

	When home,
		 and family,
			and history -
	had dwindled down to words.


We hoarded them,
	drew heat form them, and heart.

We kept them near and dear, and
	rolling off our tongues.

Repeated them, and saw them!


We kept them when all else failed us -

	Sometimes on faces, 
		and said with graces,
			Put in places -
	where sound alone caused comfort,
		and our ears up for a loss of hearth and home.