From Afra to Iris

I will forever stand around the labyrinth in that half-lit  candle etched great hall

in  a circle of to-that-moment-unrelated women; open and trusting

where that moment will carry them.

To offer and open the way, we named  first great grandmothers, grandmothers, mothers, daughters  and granddaughters and I spoke the name of my great  great  grandmother Afra, and my great granddaughter Iris; eight generations of us-ness.

We gave each  name, each link in a chain; there’s Bills thread again,the one you never let go of, 

the thread  made of pure spun gold; 

different from the gold that men ripped through the very fabric of Mother Earth to find, and grasp;,

blind and deaf to their own heart’s bleeding, and dumb to the knowledge of gold  being within the grasp of each and every one of them in the next moment with a simple act of love,

and the wars continue, 

searing forever through Bill’s thread made of gold.

Will  they ever really understand that love is the answer?            

 jbg