bloodteethandflame

A life in threes

Tag: someone else’s words

Mother’s Day 2025

Today is Mother’s Day.

So here is a poem by Jess Urlichs, that I had been saving to post today.

Enjoy!

~~~

“I wonder who you were mum,
the you, before I was me.
Before the branches of you shook,
and gave me all the leaves.

Did the giving leave you breathless?
And then did you give some more?
Was there any left for you
In that cup to pour?

And when you gave me life
Did you live for yourself too?
Did you feel like a different person
when you entered a room?

And did you sacrifice a lot
all so you could have me?
I know you, but I wonder,
who you used to be.

Was I your making, and your mirror?
Did you hold me sometimes and cry?
Did the lion within you get stronger?
Or did it run away to die?

Mum I know your life began,
before I came along,
but did the rhythm of my breath
give your life a sweeter song?

And that flame that lives inside you,
did it flicker, or did it grow?
The lighthouse that guided me all these years,
that now lives in my bones.

I wonder these things now mum,
as I hold my babies close.
The way that I now matter to them,
is what matters to me the most.

Did you feel completely grounded?
But with a smile that had changed?
Did it shape all that you do, and more?
Did you too feel rearranged?

And though you were my person,
were you still your person too?
Was it like unstitching parts of us,
to get back some of you?

And lastly mum, as I sway here,
I think I understand
Just what it takes to be the moon,
the stars, and someone’s land.

But sometimes I wish, in a parallel world
I could visit for just one day.
Where you didn’t know me, or who I was,
and you didn’t know my name.

And I’d talk with you about all sorts,
your laughter like the sun,
and I’d recognise that smile
but with plans, so free and young.

And know you, just as I am now,
before your name was Mum.”

— Jess Urlichs


Book: Beautiful Chaos: https://www.jessicaurlichs.com/beautifulchaosbook

14 February 2025

In a time of hate
Love is an act of resistance


In a time of fear
Faith is an act of resistance


In a time of misinformation
Education is an act of resistance


In a time of poor leadership
Community is an act of resistance


In a time like this
Joy is an act of resistance . . .

     ~ Loryn Brantz

Art: Jane Spakowsky
Artist Jane Spakowsky

#valentinesday #love

Courage

Today is November 5th.

Which happens to be Election Day in the United States this year.

Of course, I had some other things to say, but honestly?

I’m more than a little concerned, mostly because of the possibilities of the election.

Maybe I should be like my husband says, and not worry ’bout a thing

but as a woman in America

I do

and

I am.

But here’s this poem that came across my feed:

C O U R A G E

I hope you speak up
For yourself and for all
For those who feel worthless
And unheard and small
For the lost and the lonely
The ones with no voice
For those who fall silent
And those with no choice
For the last and the little
The unseen and unheard
The pushed out and hidden
Who don’t speak a word
The beaten and broken
The defeated and done

I hope you use your voice
When they feel they have none
I hope you speak up
Even if you’re afraid
And you may never know
Of the difference you made
Speak for women before you
The burnt and the brave
For those still to come
And ones we could not save.

~Laura Ding-Edwards

I am trying to remain hopeful.

Maybe you are too.

And if you haven’t already, I hope that you vote today.

That is all.

Month for Loki: Five

“Friend of Fire,

Bringer of Brightness,

You lead me through the dark,

a flickering flame from a distant candle.

When it goes out,

all feels abandoned,

my heart hurts,

but in the distance,

that flickering flame returns,

guiding me down a door I didn’t anticipate.

O’ Loki,

Blood-brother of Bǫlverkr,

I hail you for the lessons you’ve taught me,

and the warmth you’ve washed my woes away with.”

— hesy-bes

feelings.

Month for Loki: Eight

Loki is big on the concept of “negative capability,” which John Keats defines as, “when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason.” Namely, that a poet must remain open to all ideas, to all identities–even to the point of obliterating one stable identity–if that poet is to remain truly creative. Basically: embrace uncertainty, because it leads to change, and change is generative and inherently creative.

Month for Loki, 6: Trickster (poetry)

A lovely poem about Loki by Sophie Oberlander:

 

Trickster

by Sophie Oberlander

“I never sought You.
Those places deep within my heart were far too burned and scarred
To let You in, hard like misshapen stone.
Or so I thought. But I gave much
The first time I hung on that Tree.
Not enough, by far, but just enough to shatter that wall of stone
The barest fragment breaking free.
I heard Your whisper, but turned aside my face
You could not be speaking to me.
I felt Your gentle touch cradling my wounded spirit
As You cradled Odin,
His body bloodied, His spirit on fire beneath that Tree
Long before I climbed its branches.
Was it through Your laughter that You taught me to love You?
Or through the tenderness of Your caress?
I have seen a face of You that few bother to see.
I have felt Your burning passion, gentle and tender beneath the Tree.
Brother, Lover, Friend,
No image of God quite prepared me for You.
You eased away my terror with Your wicked cavorting,
Making a broken child laugh by playing the fool.
I have seen Sigyn’s quiet contentment,
And the love behind Your games.
I no longer understand the trepidation in which others call Your name.
I have seen Your other face too,
When You took me to Your daughter’s realm.
I have seen You, locked in ecstasy,
Summoning up Her wards and wights for me.
My heart’s stone did not so much break
As melt beneath Your flame.
I have tasted Your rage, Your fury at my hurt,
Reveled in the darkest glee
With which You opened the gates of Niflheim to defend me.
No one told me how much You cherish Your children.
I have seen You, Trickster, weeping in anguish
Every one of Your children’s’ wounds piercing Your heart.
And I have seen You in battle, Odin’s equal,
Though Yours a far darker art.
I have heard Your song,
Far sweeter than I ever knew it could be,
As You took my hand, and led me from that Tree.
If it Your stories I cherish most, as we walk Bifrost bridge,
Dancing patterns amongst the stars.
You placed my hands upon the web, and taught me songs to weave.
As I hung for Asgard, through You, for Hella’s realm I reached.
I know how You are feared, or mocked, or thought long bound.
But I know too, it was Your hand guiding me
Through my darkest despair and pain.
And how can I fear Your deepest love,
When it is the freedom of my heart I’ve gained?
Loki, now it is Your burning that I seek.
Let us mingle songs beneath the Tree,
For I adore the flame you have ignited in me.”

Month for Loki, 2: the smallest gifts

“And the Bastard grant us, in our direst need, the smallest gifts: the nail of the horseshoe, the pin of the axle, the feather at the pivot point, the pebble at the mountain’s peak, the kiss in despair, the one right word. In darkness, understanding.”

— from Paladin of Souls by Lois McMaster Bujold

photo by Jim Sauchyn

Into the woods…

Deeper.

Deeper

 

Written by Jacob Ibrag

 

It feels like sinking.

Like you’re trying to break the waters

surface with every kick your body delivers.

You remember that panic causes

more panic so you try to remain placid.

Deeper.

You think about love and if you really

had it.

If it was really love then why hasn’t it lasted?

Maybe if it was real love, you would’ve

already been found.

And if it was real love, how could it ever die out?

Deeper.

You try forming

a symbiotic relationship with the water, letting it take you so you can become a part of it.

You’ve always belonged here.

Deeper.

You let go, giving up the fight.

Remembering

that it was all in your head as you wake up in the middle of the night.