Four Mothers By Georgina Johnson Eve you call to me, sweet living dead naked in sorrow and ecstasy timelessly craving freedom for all. When shackled in darkness where love spills ungreeted, when thorns screech the madness, you beckon me lose still more. As if healing moves through your side of mortal. Hearing melodies of daughters and wanting to expel the discord we left unchecked. Mother, I know it's senseless forgiving crimes unfelt, but I, harbinger of guilt find ancestral banquets now. The ache of lost compassion fashions pain to gold. A bellowing rose pink wind splinters forgiven light as we learn to allow a beauty so abundant that merciless blessings run free.

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