“When you take a flower in your hand and really look at it, it’s your world for the moment. I want to give that world to someone else. Most people in the city rush around so, they have no time to look at a flower. I want them to see it whether they want to or not.” – Georgia O’Keefe
I am in the late summer of my life.
I have more days behind me than before me.
I find myself thinking
Of my mother, my grandmother
What were they doing at my age?
They were becoming grandmothers.
And yet even as I await the arrival
of my fourth grandchild, there grows inside of me
an urgency, a longing wanting to push
out into this world, to be birthed,
To take its first breath, infuse life
into its body proclaiming
Here I Am!
Not a human this time but
an idea, a thought, an image
a vision child
Within me lie the accumulated
visions of generations upon generations
of women who carry our family genes
How do I honor them?
I put pen to paper
I pick up the camera
I tend to crops to feed us all
as my grandchildren bear witness.
All I bring forth they eagerly consume
as I did when I was their age
at the feet of my mother.
I am a repository of all the wisdom
of all the generations as far back
as when we were star-dust upon the flowers
I offer this to you my children
In this twilight time
may the seeds I plant today
be the food for your children’s children’s children.