Aquarius's Birth

Mother's and Daughter's.

When we as women hit an age of those not desired we rage. Cause who is the world to love a woman who ages gracefully, calmly, windlessly. This is what the world speaks of but it seems as though the divine feminine doesn’t get to say a single syllable to those who will never listen in the first place. Grey hair, shining in the moonlight like silk in the valleys of ancient worlds, caressing the young and noble femmes offering them secrets and knowledge men will never hear a whisper of. I could dive into the silvery strands you have sprouted from the protected temple of your soul and find endless knowledge of Mother Aquarius. She has fought to be here in the sun, when she is welcomed to the moonlight followed by Artemis beckoning her to the crashing waves. But she is far too resistant, far too bashful to accept that youth is something we only sought for in agonizing loneliness. 

I recall holding the Mother’s hand on the beach, far too young to understand why her scowl sat permanently on her face, why she was so angry with the world. I thought she had been offered the cards of a ruler, one of undying beauty and resistance. But it was not enough for her, she needed youth more than we could ever fathom. 

She doesn’t understand that the joy I find in the crevices and creases on her face is the gentlest warmth I have ever experienced. I find the calm of the storm in those creases, I know she has landed her spaceship and has found no resistance to the man-made gravity the children created around. She sought no war, no anger, she only wished for rest and solitude.  The look of knowing that when her face relaxes she is something amazing, something fought for in the world. Because who could resist the smile of billions of stars and serpent eyes. Though I see this in the Aquarius Mother, I find it in the children of her, something long forgotten but valued by those beings who do not speak a lick of modern language. 

We can never modernize the generational trauma women have walked through the same doors, as each woman in their family.  Whether we have fought it with a mighty heart, we will always be bound to the irrevocable fate of finding the same things beautiful, painful, hurtful, and unimaginable. We can be so similar like two air elements, but the Mother’s is the electrified air of an almighty sea storm, while the Child’s is  gentle and swaying in the palm trees of a suburbanized neighborhood. We wish for so many things to be similar in each of our lives, but somehow we each come out so differently so many different shades of blue. The Aquarius's Mother is a deep Cyan, a word found in Greek literature, a noun Kaynos.  Meaning dark blue, some enamel found in the depths of the Aegean Sea , mortal hands dip into it constantly to find the answers of the past but are only met with this distinctive color  and remintants of the lost. But the  daughter is known as Aquamarine, Latin noun Aqua Marinus. Aquamarine comes from the sea, bottle fed from the thrashing ocean that carried her to shore in a slow and unhurried pace. She was found lost in Siberia, hidden amongst the travelers of the mountains. Waiting to be glorified by the young women of this modern century. 

We can be similar but never the same and the Aquarius Mother will age knowing this thoughtfully and respectfully because she understands she can’t fight the storms anymore, her time here is to rest and find peace amongst those she viewed as an enemy long before stories of cognitive creatures were written. 

Author's Note

Thank you for reading, suggestions and comments are welcomed.

Reviews

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I loved this poem. Such a recognition of what women go through