Walking behind the Mother

We feel her protection surround us.
Not the statue on her platform carried by ten men,
but the Mother herself protects us.
The village has followed her statue
for hundreds of generations.
The elder watching from her doorway as we pass
claps her hands with tears in her eyes,

Feeling the blessing of the Mother,
and remembering the years she walked in the procession.
Tonight in October, the Virgin of Rosario.
In December, Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe.
The Quantum Goddess has a thousand names
and how we love her here in Mexico.
So many  celebrations to honor her,

And teach the children of each generation
reverence, reverence
not for a statue but for the Mother of us all.
The marching Mariachi rouse us to devotion
with music of joyful explosions!
We’re walking through the village
while the sun is setting golden.

Pilgrims happily jostling shoulders,
children in a parent’s arms, on a parent’s shoulders,
or grasped between two grownup’s hands.
All of us behind the Mother,
some barefoot on the cobblestones,
some with blindfold over eyes
to fulfill a vow for a granted prayer.

Sweeping along in deep devotion.
we see the moon is slowly rising.
The bearers set the statue down
to light the many beeswax tapers
on her platform’s golden sleigh of flowers.
Walking through the village streets behind the Mother
we become entrained, entranced.

Walking, walking with the Mother
we become transported.
One step after another,
soon it doesn’t matter
where or when we are.
Following the Mother
we walk along with ancestors.

Devoted to the Mother.
we’re swept along together.
We take our steps for descendents
we feel them waking behind us.
In devotion to our common Mother
we’re lifted past our common sorrows
into our communal joy.

            ©Susa Silvermarie 2025