Mother’s Day 2020 will be like no other within living memory. Coronavirus has made social distancing mandatory for most of us in the known world. While restrictions are being slowly lifted in some countries a lot of us will have to wish mom Happy Mother’s Day from a distance.

Despite this, the love for one’s mother remains strong despite the Covid-19 restrictions. The Divine Feminine Energy that mothers display so freely to their off springs are seated within us all. Be you man or woman, this sacred energy runs through our holy temple bodies making us receptive to the flow of life around us. All we have to do is open our hearts a little wider and acknowledge our feeling nature. Check my blog on The Divine Feminine.

We are going to need this energy in the coming months in order to navigate the deep dark waters of economic and personal adjustment that the virus would leave in its tracks. And who better to help us through the difficult passages ahead? The fiftysomething women of course. Who are they? They are identified below in my poem. Taken from my book of poetry, Seven Emotive Passages (available on Amazon.com), it was written more than a decade and a half ago. Its message is relevant to our present-day predicament. Women, and men are being called now to activate their Divine Feminine Energy to help humanity evolve to our next level of growth that the coronavirus has so clearly opened up for us. Read and activate your Divine Feminine, as you see or feel fit. 

Thank you All.

 

THE FIFTYSOMETHING CALL

Some are fearful, so they keep quiet

Still, some are tearful, so they hide

Some are sweating, they cannot take the heat

Some women aged just past fifty give in to

The Silence Conspiracy this side of the age divide.

These Fiftysomethings meet in secluded corners

To talk about their perilous life journey

They have just barely pulled through.

Dark little backroom recesses in their minds

They now gather to bitch and gripe in private hate

As they watch their once bright youth

Evaporate as God has stamped it, past due

They talk about the way society now views them

And the way it is sinking into conditions of disgrace.

Do not count those few who are in church and state

Nor those who never crossed the line over twenty-five

For to remain men’s darlings they choose to stagnate

Moving from one battle of the bulge to another

To squeeze their sagging asses

Into the hugging jeans of giddy teens.

No.

I am talking of the noiseless ones you see everywhere

Huddled together in the grocery stores and marketplaces

Or whispering softly in back pew benches

Or sitting silently in busy office spaces

But their wisdom words you can never hear.

They are fatigued but not afraid to show their graying hair

Their fat belly bulges, receptacles of their awesome female power

That mystical energy they used for childbirth and creativity

Now fully matured during the menopausal phase

But can find no acceptable way to participate.

They find no problems with their flabby breasts

For they know the crumpled skins encase their hearts of gold

That shines on troubled souls every day in our crazy world

These mother sisters bright take the insights

Of the passing years straight to the mind of the heart

And wish the others in society would join them

In accepting the blessings of this sacred selective sorority

To bring the world back to manageable levels of sanity

Before the greed for money made us into each other’s enemy.

We need help now they say,

For we Fiftysomethings, alone, cannot bring it back

Give us a chance to speak our truths out loud

Although the world media conspire to keep us out

Let us into your lives and we will heal your broken hearts

Our men need to be welcomed back as equal allies

To bring our children back from the social brink

They need to grow up without us in their shoes.

The animals need to be taken out to pasture again

The land needs to be tilled

The huge corporations to see us as family.

It is still a fight to live on Mother Earth they know

But you cannot let fifty throw you, is their cry

We Fiftysomethings cannot yet go in and hide

Nor be silent in the systematic ruin of our world

Weep not for the burial of your youth

Ahead we have a full life to live

Knowledge to impart

Young women to guide

Companies to oversee.

Grieve no more over the lack of recognition

For fifty is the big coming out

Not going in and hibernating

Remember that we are the female force

Much more than support in a vicious divorce

Get up and strive Fiftysomethings

Make your fifties, the years of realized power

The years when you truly come awake

Ascending to fulfil the God Promise

Long coded deep within your skeletal shell.

 

Gemma Afiyah Ledgerwood May 2020