Yesterday brought The Midwife and the Mortician and I’m exploring some thoughts on its meaning and my intention with the flow.
The Midwife and the Mortician
I am the sun,
you are the moon.
Together we’ve made a world
touching only in brief moments
across vast amounts of time.
You shape form, you wain, you wax,
I invoke the Solstice and Equinox.
Together we set the stage,
the lights, inform the scenes
in which our progeny play.
I am the death of the old way,
you are the birth of the new.
The midwife and mortician, together alone
uprooted everything to plant seeds,
not crosses, with these bones.
©Eden Bloom, Eschaton Life
I’m uncertain how to determine if death has been more present for me than others. The patriarch of my childhood family, my grandfather, worked in a funeral home I frequented. I’ve written at length about both of my grandparents roles as psychopomps. This is an extension of that expression.
I was born on the winter solstice. The reference and energy here points toward order, wheel of the year. The solstice and equinox establish the parameters of the playing field and denote the boundaries of my mental and physical geography/time/space.
There is that old SWANS song Goddamn the Sun that resonates here. Leather-clad, whiskey-drenched and sun cursing, the blazing sun as oppressive owner/all-father. While I resist attributing male/female energy to nature, here the sun is phallic and weaponized as both the seed and the sword.
Back up the tree tmrw.