Sometimes I Write Poems

Sometimes, when I'm bored or in love or thinking deep thoughts or all of the above, I write poetry. It's not bad poetry, but it's certainly not brilliant. But it's still a piece of my soul. Today, while bored in class, I decided to write about something very dear to my heart. Throughout my life, I've thought a lot about Heavenly Mother and the Divine Feminine, and lately it's resurged and has been very present on my mind. I believe that God is our loving Heavenly Father--and I also believe that He has a wife, God the Mother. But even though I know She exists, there is so much that is unknown about Her. It's hard to learn about someone who is rarely talked about, and it's hard to become like someone I don't know about. Yet She is there, and one day I'll know Her.

Are You My Mother?

There’s a children’s book called

Are You My Mother?

About a young bird looking for his mother.

He’s never met her.

No, she left right before he hatched-- 

To go find food,

To care for him,

To do what was best.

Because she loved him.

But then he hatches,

And she’s not there.

So, knowing nothing,

He takes off to find her.

It’s a desperate search full of hardship:

Questions, no answers.

Silence, Snorts, terror.

Unexpected help when it’s needed most,

From the very things he thinks are dangerous.

I, too, am looking for my Mother:

That Goddess,

The Divine Feminine,

The plural in the Elohim.

I’ve never met Her.

At least not like I’ve “met” my Father.

But She feeds me

And cares for me,

Even if it’s hard to see.

Because She loves me.

But as I progress

And She’s not visibly there--

Not in the temple, not in prayer--

I wonder if I’ll ever find Her,

What She’s like,

If I’ll ever be like her.

It’s a desperate search full of hardship:

Questions, no answers.

Silence, scoffs, terror.

But unexpected help when it’s needed most,

From children’s books, from the Spirit

From Her Herself.

The little bird found his mother,

And he recognized her.

But only because of his search.

Because he looked.

And as I search,

I know She is there

Because I feel Her.

And I know who She’s not,

And I have some of the pieces,

And I have faith--

Faith that one day I’ll return to the nest,

To my heavenly home.

And when She asks if I know Her,

I can and will answer:

Yes, You are my Mother.

For more reading about Heavenly Mother, check out these two essays: "A Mother There" and "Mother in Heaven".