Photography by Molly Maltman.
WAVES
like a mother
The waves gently carried me
in and out of shore.
They rocked and cradled me
and
told me
everything would be okay.
by Molly Maltman
Photography by Molly Maltman.
Perhaps it is because you moved mountains
that I’m not scared of heights
Perhaps it is because you are a square
that my heart has a hole
Perhaps it is because you drowned in darkness
that I see ghosts dying
And perhaps it is your restraint
that made my spine grow tall
Perhaps it is the blade up your throat
that made my tongue speak softly
And the words you roared
that grew me wild
Perhaps our bones
are pointing in different directions
our dangling feet yet somehow entwined
Perhaps it is your mad eyes
that gleam in the night-time sky
And perhaps it is your sad eyes
that emerge from the sea
Perhaps it is red-old tears
that burnt scars onto our bodies
Perhaps earth is my mother
because you’ll never be
Perhaps because I traced your lines
I run in circles
Perhaps it is the heirloom’s chain
that twisted our necks
Perhaps your silver gates
unlocked my spirit
Perhaps it is because you are lost
that I cannot see
by Marie Wez
Photography by Molly Maltman.
& Mother Is a Blooming of Breath
the embrace is one long road to nakedness
the symphony is all mouth
& i wrap my hunger
around a memory of sunrise & green meadow
the earth kisses my cheek
& mother is a blooming of breath
birds singing dandelion
& slow descent into tenderness
hope comes to me alive
hope comes to me a life
hope comes to me in love
& mother is a blooming of breath
beloved, i am holding you up
as the wind blows & the windchimes
sing softly with the leaves
this birthsong is anchored
to the sun
to the moon
& beloved, here is love
life
i will hold you up
& beloved, here is life
love
i will hold you up
the embrace is one long road to nakedness
the symphony is all heart
open your mouth & sing
by Phoenix Yemi
Photography by Molly Maltman.
(To): M/other
Apologies, I never seem to find the words. Each attempt feels inadequate, and now I realise you / it can’t be described as a single whole. This f/act of m/other / contains
us in differences. And so / I wonder / if mother is both verb and noun, what are some of the other verbs that mothering, this expansive, growing field of action includes?
To nurture and to protect. To affirm and support life. In each act, the love we’re / I’m gifted through thousands of meals prepared / playdates organised / dance parties hosted / phone and FaceTime calls / backyard hangs / postcards / tears / hugs / texts / vacations / awkward conversatioons / walks / misunderstandings / and help / asked for and given.
To cocoon, to hold and support. Offering a comforting, guiding hand. To build bridges,
neurologically and emotionally, that connect people, places and spaces so that I / you / we can wildly create a world we’ve / I’ve never seen. Never felt / never heard / only dreamt of.
On this merry-go-round of memories, it feels like centuries ago since I closed the front door and drew the curtains with no intention of ever opening them again / waiting and waiting / and aching with waiting. And I often ask myself, does the mothering work I did as a young carer hold any significance? To you / to her / to anyone. Did I show you how to see farther beyond the walls directly in front of you? It was my social responsibility / as advisor / as coach / as watcher / as sibling / as guide.
To teach you the codes and then just let / you / go.
[by Kat Benedict]
As featured in SLEEK 79 – MOTHER. Available in print and digital here.