Maternal Tenacles

author's note:

The fossilized skeleton we call “Lucy”, is known in Ethiopia as “Dinkinesh”, which can be translated as “you are marvelous”.


MATERNAL TENTACLES

A year ago I saw a show
about an ancient ancestor

found under earth and rock
in dry savanna gorge--
they named her “Lucy”.

I immediately fell in love
with the poor innocent
and that night I dreamt
her tiny skeleton slept beneath
a blanket of my own ancient dust.

Yes, dreams tell incredible truths--
apparently the white man I am
carries this humble stone mother spirit
deep in his innards:

we hold more
than we’ll ever know
but
it’s good to know
as much as you can
about what you hold
because

I now feel the loss--
I now grieve the death
of this simple loving nature.
Now I will nurture
that maternal engine
back to life.

As I feel empathy for myself
I feel empathy for the world:
I can see this loss all over the world.
Men lactate in their own way--
a buried reservoir awakens.
I could stop the flow, but dare not--
for too long I’ve known
the pain of being dry.

Nonetheless, I’m tentative
as this milk spills over--spreads--extends
its tentacles
beyond the borders
of my domain‑‑
these feelers want to feel
but remain afraid:
    they’ve encountered
    blunt objects before
    and been blunted.

But with this fledgling spreading
the gray beneath Lucy's fingertips
slowly bleeds back to pink
and pink desert flowers bloom:

the prickly desert slowly transforms
into a desert garden.  Oh so slowly.
But slow change endures.

© 2021, Michael R. Patton
Dancing to Raven’s Song: a novel