There are so many of them;
they stand behind our backs,
long trails of mothers
stretching out over the frozen lakes,
spilling beyond the skyline
and eventually lost far inside dark shadows of time.
There forms a river of women’s blood,
a mesh of women’s bones,
a web of women’s lives
into which we are profoundly, intricately woven.
As we walk back along our line of ancestral women
they reach out their hands to touch us.
We are being wrapped in the enduring life force of our many ancient mothers.
Each ancestor we pass has given some part of herself to the women we are now.
There are so many mothers whispering inside us.