Gently, Mother Sun warmed my skin, dried my tears as I looked for answers.
Behind me she stood, casting my shadow before me. The darkness seemed wiser.
Gently, Mother Air breathed life through my body, no longer girl but tearful dancer.
I moved with her power, yet so deeply I hoped, craved being looked after.
Gently, Mother Sea made me weightless to relax, and spoke clearly with candour,
Here, I’m surrounded by glory, only my exhalations are empty, sad laughter
Gently, Mother Earth wound vines round my ankles, to my shoulders from my back,
She rooted me to the ground, told me “I could”, no matter what the disaster.
Gently, Mother Fire showed me to a flame, and all I had to do was believe in her.
I was afraid to reach out, to touch, to love just in case I was burned in a blur.
Gently, and completely, my mothers’ truly loved me; gracefully and unconditionally,
I was blind and could not see, yet I was caught up in a steadfast enrapture.
Different faces, different bodies… yet always shining brilliantly.
They hold me together, say “I’ll love you forever, my dancing daughter.”
I’m not a poet, yet my grief made me try to be today. Tomorrow will be better, my friends.