Womb of Creation by Gregg Hake
Squatting in her tent, folds of tired linen
Stretch from waist to dirt-strewn ground
Hiding erstwhile glories, precious goods of former days
Desperate to stem the tide of change she hides
Behind masquerade of crimson tide’s multiplied sorrows
Rebuking deceitfully merciful summons of higher nature
Echoing in the garden in the cool of the day she cries
‘I cannot rise up before thee; for the custom of women is upon me!’
Others proclaim ‘here am I’ without pause, yet she, not she.
She rails against faintest whiff of redolent winds
Which sweep gently from the East, bearing seeds
To wombs of creation both fertile and barren.
Gregory Hake 
It is a sad thing when people fight against the changes that are a constant part of life’s flow. It is like trying to stay where you are in the surf zone, it is impossible and it just makes you tired.
When you say “here am I” it is like surfing the wave, when you don’t it is like you fight against it. Either way, you end up on the shore, but there is definitely a difference in how you get there.
LikeLike
Such a poignant description of capacity squandered and destroyed through unwillingness to keep the spirit of the womb!
To let go, to release and forgive, to rise up and greet the gentle winds bringing the seeds of creative destiny and the return of beauty – blessed renewal!
LikeLike
Thanks for the call to let our wombs of creation be fertile. It is great to be able to hear your words!
LikeLike
We are always creating something, whether it ends up being a barren desert wasteland or a beautiful fertile field. We can’t destroy the delicate seeds, the new beginning that come to us (from other people, from our own hearts, from life) and then expect to receive abundance. Creation is a womb that feeds, nourishes and protects the delicate essences of life through eternal patience, love and care.
LikeLike
What poignant words. You have a gift for expressing yourself through poetry; an apt example of creation in itself. Thank you
LikeLike
I would say this indeed applies to all of us, for we all in one way or another are responsible for nurturing and protecting the priceless value contained in the first morsels that come to us via some inspiration, insight or physical resource. Every new beginning has to start somewhere, and as it is now is always at some stage of infancy. Mankind strives to build legacies, and the same principles apply if our lot is to receive something more formed. Are dowries, inheritances and kingdoms conserved with wisdom?
Moreover, it’s in the attitudes we hold towards life which are in display through our actions. Are they reverent and unassuming, putting the focus of our attention outside of ourselves on the larger picture, or do we slip into carelessness and boastful arrogance via selfish ignorance, choking off heaven’s descent and eastern gales? Harm comes to all of us in a moment’s instance as we forget who we are and act out our amnesia.
This poem provides much room to think about as these are the questions that come to mind which I ask of myself.
LikeLike