Mother’s Breast

Raymond Ruka

Oh, how calm the waters flow, the droplets sown like seeds

from something dynamic that individually go to making each

of us. And then reunion, back into family, all singular, different

and yet the same.

Come the majesty of waterfall, the torrent of rapids, the journey and returning home to calm of mother’s nourishment and rest. A momentary pause to catch one’s breath, back from teat the scent unforgettably stamped unique, as is one’s fingerprint, before diving back in again, to rejoin the flow of chaos as the river goes back into the depths of eternity again – and the babe to rest.

Babe and stream both the same, dependent on the one, and yet, apart they belong, two together and yet uniquely apart the further they wind their way away from home. And then, the same they become again when the circular path of their circumstance demands their return.

Oh, to be free as does the stringed kite glide at winds behest

….and yet, all the while, like all of us, be tied to Mama’s Breast