Broken Basket Woman

I am Basket Woman, weaver of life

and so far, my basket has served me well

it was woven tightly and held all my dreams

As a child it was filled with mermaids and selkies

horses running free, teddies to cuddle, a place to just BE

When I flew the nest it held my hopes and fears

paperwork, bills, love letters and tears

Later it held babies, washing and food

a basket of apples, a basket of love (ever flowing)

After years of giving from my basket of life

my edges are frayed, my base is worn out

I’m falling apart, and I don’t know who I am…

mother, giver, lover, feeder, cleaner, mender

Creatress, Priestess, Warrior, Saint?

I’m Broken Basket Woman, sitting here alone

I need to fix myself, I need to sit, to dream

to weave myself back into being….whole.