A bead is a prayer.
Sitting down by the river, watching the children play. I see the Mother all around me, in the rushing of the water, in the trees looming over us on the side of the hill.
I marvel at the small and seemingly insignificant steps that brought me here, brought us together as a family. The voice that has guided me all along, the clear urging in moments of panic, the guarantee of my safety and protection from the suffering the grandmothers prayed I would never have to endure.
I sit here with the whisper of the water as she sings the song of healing and renewal. Integration of myself as a young girl now a woman in the mother phase of her life. Turning 30 and knowing less than I thought I did only a few years ago.
I left all groups, religions and ideologies now like I shed everything. All that is left is to seek and see the sacred and honour your inner voice. And thank your Mother.
