She could be a wanderer
Sails cast to the wind amidst the galactic sea
Setting forth upon everything and nothingness
Flowing, rising, expanding toward infinity

She could be grounded like Salix
Firmly planted, roots beneath
And above: limbs outstretched, swaying whimsically
Dichotomy of her rigidness and plasticity

An artist, a canvass, a goddess, a child
Beingness unattached to absolute
Boundless possibility

A warrior, a peace-maker, a lover, a sub-atomic entity
An infant-less mother.
A fishnet stocking Gypsy

With hands submerged deep down in the soil
Planting roots, sowing seeds
Threads for a patchwork wisdom tree, web of dreams
And intricacies.

A nurturer baring no fruit from her womb
Without emptiness, without a void from within
She cradles instead, a radiating heart upon her breast,
Compassion becoming maternity.
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Christina Julianna
January 9th, 2011.