A mother begins a cycle
Of which she is not the beginning
But a recepient and a vessel
Of eternities past and present
I feel myself in her body
Floating not walking
With rhythmic poise
My fingers find the gestures that are hers
As a child I thought her wise
Beautiful and Strong
And the vision I had then
Is the way that I feel now
(excerpt from my autobiography)
Of which she is not the beginning
But a recepient and a vessel
Of eternities past and present
I feel myself in her body
Floating not walking
With rhythmic poise
My fingers find the gestures that are hers
As a child I thought her wise
Beautiful and Strong
And the vision I had then
Is the way that I feel now
(excerpt from my autobiography)