The Echoes of Mothers' Epiphany WritingImpact

 The breath of life joins the ring of oaks,
                          remembering
like magma echoes silica mounting truth into yolk. 

The fern pleas warning to the mothers’ cry, 
listening when to open allows the love to survive; 
when the call comes heralding then it’s time to rise.

A turtle tumbles down the cavern of regret;
                          the epiphany
 of where home is, is one not soon to forget.   

As druids reign ceremony from the hearth,
strong roots create sweet fruits unhurt
to awaken all scentient beings yearning,
and to melt the bindings of captivity. 

~
Written with my beloved  @amoonnile