This Dusty Earth: Witchcraft in the City
A blog about mental health, magic, and the cycles of nature in parched Los Angeles.
A Prayer for the Unmothered
May you find your mothers in a lungful of sweet air, in a breeze that cools your anger, in a gust that sings, “I see you, and I’m here."
May you find your mothers in deep belly laughter, the joy that overtakes you unexpectedly, the electricity that fuels your love for what you create.
May you find your mothers in the sea foam and the conch shell, in a hot bath or a nourishing rain, in your sigh of relief when your thirst is slaked.
May you find your mothers in the strong stone that supports you, in the thick soil that offers itself to you, in the trees that reach out to draw you under their shelter.
May you find your countless mothers all around you. May you feel their gentle touches and see their sweet smiles. May you hear your mothers when they tell you you’re loved. May their words penetrate to your deepest, most wounded parts.
(After "Mother is both a noun and a verb..." by Rebecca Solnit. Image credit Don Hitchcock, via Wikipedia.)
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