mother Archives · Ashley Barnes

The Mother Wound

Photo by Alexander Krivitskiy on Unsplash

The mother wound beckons to be opened,
Cut gently with the skillful artist’s hands
To ooze degradation from the box
In which she’s kept it hidden
Since the moment of her inception

To set her free, and with it
Drain the pus of aggravation,
Infection, carried in her swollen belly
Like a sickly baby long past its birth

Let it spill forth,
Pouring out the lifetimes of quiet rage
Festering in its place of confinement,
Crying for a new life,
Begging to take wing,
Asking, was it ever mine to begin with?

©SpiritLed 2018

Healing the Mother Wound inside us All

Elephant Journal

For all the beautiful healing women, still searching, still trying to quiet that voice….

The mother wound is very much alive.

Read the entire article on Elephant Journal.

{POEM} Flow of Life

Awakenings, Poetic Healing

How is it
I can go nearly a year
Without touching toes to sand.
Feeling the slap of waves upon my feet.
Sinking into the warm comfort of ocean water?

How is it,
I let myself get so busy
That whole months go by
Without touching a tree,
Listening to the mystical whisper of the woods?

How can I let time slip by,
Become more important,
Than my renewal
Of the connection to the Mother?

How can I learn
Not to control the turning of the tides,
The changing of the trees,
The passage of time,
And instead ride the wave of existence?

Without buoys
Without rigs
Just my heart open
To the flow of life

©SpiritLed 2017

This Creative Life

Poetic Healing

In creating, we find life,
The kind of life that isn’t discovered
In everyday endeavors
Or positive pursuits

But rather, the kind of life discovered
Between long, slow kisses,
Lazy sunsets by the sea,
The lilting laugh of a joyful baby,
Irises blooming in the garden for your mother

All creating the backdrop
Of a richer existence
Longer days and sleepier nights
With stars like spotlights above us
Illuminating the many miracles
Uncovered, created
Through this creative life

©SpiritLed 2017

Ancient Mother

Awakenings, Poetic Healing, Poetry

Ancient mother lives within,
Spinning up the tales of our soul,
Planting the seeds of future ideations,
Harboring the boats that sail on salty tears
Cried for past generations and future warriors

Laboring for love’s last breath on our lips,
She bears the fruit of victory over death,
Her last breath given to save us from ourselves,
Only to rise again from the ashes we created,
Strengthening the warrior inside

Despite the fear,
Despite the rage,
She frees us from our cage of self-imposition
And our bondage with the broken ties of past regrets

This love she holds is boundless,
Always available to mend our tender hearts
And set the broken pieces to sail
On the sea of her open, endless heart

Thirty-Nine

Awakenings, Musings

Today I turn 39. My last year in my 30’s. If I had my nearly 4 decades to do over, I’d stay home with my kids, which is a total contradiction because I hated staying at home when they were very young. Now I’d do it all over again and for longer, just for more time with them. I’d go to graduate school the first time I had the chance. I’d go back to that first relationship in high school, and I’d say no to that boy. Yes, it would change the course of my life, but I’d avoid the pain of losing a friend. I’d make and keep better connections with friends of my parents and my extended family. I had no idea how much I would wish I knew them better as I got older. I’d demand more of myself. The status quo and self pity would never be in my coping toolbox. I’d learn about self care early on and make it a priority. I’d stop myself from picking up terrible interpersonal habits that negatively affect my relationships. My poor husband really has to deal with a lot of baggage. I’d let people get close to me, I’d be more vulnerable. And I’d expect it of other people too. I’d take back every mean word I ever said to my sister. Maybe we were just kids, but I’m sure it affected her, and she’s the only sibling I have. I’d set better boundaries for myself, and I wouldn’t be afraid to say no. I wouldn’t find a sick comfort in relationships that make me feel bad. I’d talk to my mom about her illness, I’d share my fears about living a life without her. I’d snuggle up next to her that night when she asked me to. I’d understand that in order to feel great joy and compassion, you also, at times, have to allow yourself to feel great pain. I’d never stop writing. Or dancing. Or letting the world know how smart I am. Or crying. I’d cry a LOT more. And I’d pray more. I’d figure out early what makes me passionate and pursue that. Or not stop pursuing that. I’d have a job that I love, that fulfills me, that I can’t wait to get up and do every morning. I’d force my foot into that Cinderella slipper and never let it fall off my foot.

“Make the most of your regrets; never smother your sorrow, but tend and cherish it till it comes to have a separate and integral interest. To regret deeply is to live afresh.”

~Henry David Thoreau

Happy 39. It’s going to be a great year.