If I have grown


If I have grown from the mother sun

and the countless spangles that strew the sky,

who, what, will

they blow winter winds and rip the shadows

of her shining ship to shreds while you watch?

Would you?


Black is beauty, you say, like the night

with its diamond rivers, but so is light,

rising from purple to pink and gold, smiling—

a mother’s face?


Rain whispers, this too is spring,

and behind the clouds we are still together,

you, me and the mother of us all.


Moon draws a red blood-loop of sun flares

about the stars, waxes with withheld breath

and bathes us in cool silver so we sleep

you, she, me,

through the storm of night, light and shooting stars.


Still, with sleeping ears,

you, I, we

listen to her music soar high as roses

reaching to the sky

and water falling like tears of joy.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

11 thoughts on “If I have grown”

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