The Matriarchal Flame

the gentle hands of women.

you have kept me transfixed and comfortable with your warmth. your soft glow is that of a woman who has lived and loved and moved on. i put my hands out in hopes that your flames will chase away the cold that has collected. i watched your flicker and sway and the soft crackle has endeared me without effort. we know these flames, these are the flames that have raised all manner of sons and daughters. the same heat that has prepared sustenance, these flames be us and we in turn stare into these flames and they know us. the flame that is you, is now burning in me and i welcome it. it’s been a little while, but i know that feeling, it has carried me. it has kept me from me and made sure that i knew of it’s life giving warmth. when i was alone and in the dark, i could still see that light of that flame, of that heart, of that woman, of that life giver, of that love that is mine. i take it with me when i go and it goes with me. i bring it back when i come and it comes with me. my tears have flowed and that flame remains, it’s what i need. it’s what i have always needed.