by Summer Knight Wibel 5/5/98
I am the angel whistling with the winds.
I am the one drop of honey left in the jar for none but one.
I am the child stomping in the mud on a mild march day.
I am the goddess of love waiting to erupt.
I am your song, play it again so you can hear me sing.
I am the star that shines so brightly above your head.
I am your favorite blanket, hold me in your arms so I can
feel your stale breath fall upon my neck.
As you see I am, just as I am your angel, honey, child, goddess,
song, star, and blanket. I am your love, your one. For I am.
My sister gave me this poem today.
Every morning I write, read and pray at the end of my bed. There is a makeshift alter on my windowsill, love symbols and such. This morning I was contemplating Mothers day and the way I feel. Which is actually pretty black as a result of some serious hormones & chemistry related to my menstrual cycle. I was thinking of that powerlessness-how its not just a choice to be happy when you are powerless over your mood because of your physical makeup. I was thinking about my destructive behavior yesterday as a result of my "black" feelings. I was thinking "OK, how can I can I plan ahead next month, how do plan for this inner insanity and live through it. I thought (PMS) Prepare Make Safe. As I was thinking about this I thought of my sister Summer, and her disease; Bi-Polar Disorder and how powerless she was over her chemistry I also thought about how she wanted to be a mom too and how she died in a fragile time during her menstrual cycle. I thought about how on this Mothers day I understood the real need to be acknowledged for the difficulties of being a Mother, a woman destined to intense chemistry and hormones and body changes in order to bear children to bring forth life.
Sitting at the end of my bed thinking about this, feeling my sister, looking at her picture hanging in the star, I thought to maybe read something of hers. I have kept a bag of her journals and writings at the side of my bed, which I have not yet gone in to. Then I thought, "No, that will only make you sadder." but then I did anyway. The one piece I pulled out was a book of poems she made, the cover said; "HAPPY MOTHERS DAY"
a gift on this mothers day.......
we are so lucky as mothers; sometimes we give birth to angels........