Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser
I am like the mother who has never
had children, and so is mother to them all.
I cannot rest until they are where
their four legs should be at nightfall:
in the barn,
on the antiques and bookshelves,
boxes and baskets,
several on beds, one with a
head on my very own down pillow.
How could we settle for anything less than
a sacred ritual? “Are you safe?” We ask
And, we don’t stop searching,
until we hear,
in some language,
© 2014-2016/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this World"
Published by Talking Waters Press
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