Ode to the Mother

Recently, I participated in a poetry workshop lead by Rachel Neve Midbar for Ritualwell. After some of King David's beautiful Psalms were read aloud, the presenter gave us a prompt:  Imagine the world will end in ten minutes, and we want to leave a last message; an ode to the end, if you will. We were given a limited set of words and phrases to employ, and twenty minutes in which to write. Akin to an artist determined to paint with a limited palette, we set to work. What followed was a stunning sharing session of artistic communication. I have posted my contribution below. Feel free to share, with attribution! I will also submit this poem to Ritualwell. I hope that it speaks to you.

Ode to the Mother

Before the end,

allow me a moment

of separation and memory.

The white fire that was lost,

may it frame us in it's flaming,

tender corona, so that:

we murmur

our phantom wilderness,

we shelter

the astonished purple Earth,

we gasp

in the sudden warm rain

of our wild daughters' love.

Yael Fischman, 2022