Women weave their dance,
Maypoles and streamers intertwine.
Little girls full of hope,
Skipping down the maypole line.
The colors of ribbons and flowers,
Swirl together in my mind.
Waldorf memories with children,
A simpler, sweeter glimpse of life.
Women weave their dance.
Generations past still whisper.
Girls whose hope is stripped,
Begat girls who grow to mothers.
The colors of memories intertwine,
Grief darkens trees and flowers.
Of daughters lost and mothers gone,
Or here but just as far.
This day to honor mothers.
Simple gifts of kindness,
Offer love which covers sin.
The colors of hope and grief,
Side by side swirl from His palette.
Today is all there is,
Tomorrow still inside us.
May courage weave it’s thread,
To see what is behind us.
Take off rose colored glasses,
And grieve the pain that binds.
Yet colors speak of love,
Both before and behind us.
And whisper of the hope
Tis truth the women choose.