Mother, Music


A poem to be read at a Mother Blessing, written by Sophie Ward, 2017.

My dear sister.

You are embarking

on an indescribable journey.

In one month or so,

you will leave the harbor

you have called home

for so long,

and find yourself

on a shamanic journey

like no other.

You will go to depths

I cannot tell you about,

for they will be yours.

You will experience highs

I cannot imagine,

for they will be yours,

tethered to the soul

you have been holding space for

and will continue to hold space for,

a soul whose face

you will come to know

so very well.

When you look in the mirror

in several months

you will see a very different woman.

Your heart will be raw

from all that loving,

and all the waves that await you

on the unfathomable sea

of this journey.

Your body will ache

From the weight of the

love in your arms.

You will be reborn

in a way only motherhood

can mysteriously make possible.

I have come to believe

that there is no other initiation

more radical in its reshaping of a woman

than the process of






onto the earthen floor

of this very planet.

Blood of our blood,

bone of our bone,

veins like vines

within our garden,

forever turning, ever evolving,

We deliver renewal

with the fierce grace

of our babies entrance.

Your birth will reshape you

and everything around you.

Your child will become

the sun in your life

around which everything

will revolve.

You will become

the sun in your child's life,

around which

an entire cosmology revolves.

You will also become

the sun around which

Your family revolves.

You are the light from which life beams.

You are the cup from which

your family drinks.

You are the flower bed

from which it all grows.

Your beloved must remain close

to fill and refill

your cup, tending the Earth of you

in the way only he knows how.

Your friends and family

must retain a keen listening

for how they may support you

in the planting and

replanting of the flowers you love,

in the filling and refilling

of your cup

which will be emptied,

many times in one day.

You must remember

in the ancient weave of your soul

the ways in which we let go

and so let in.

I've come to believe that when

we are emptied,

as a flute is emptied

by a skilled creator:

carved out, hollowed,

notched and whittled away

with sacred intention

from raw material,

the music of our lives

makes sense.

The phenomena of the

most beautiful notes

can be heard with clarity,

and there is a resonance

that heals not

only the naked vessel,

but all those who

hear our song.

Do not resist the sacred hollowing

that approaches.

Welcome the hands

of the master craftsman

who has already begun

to work on you.

Maiden To Mother,

Mother to Music.

We are the ones who sing the song

of tomorrow, through the

sacred mundane of every today,

guiding, loving, listening

calling in the heavens

and bringing them here to earth.

I bless you, oh graceful one.

May your passage through the ring of fire

be infused with trust, love, surrender, and beauty.

May your child’s journey to earth

be a marvelous adventure,

a sacred dance,

with a gentle landing,

and may the love that will be ignited

within your new family ripple across time and space,

informing us all.

I love and cherish you

and I wish you all the best.