The Tale of Taraxacum
tru Daley
For the earth did sigh as its bounty went unnoticed. And she wept as her Deaf Children walked past and even on her gifts that could have healed their wounds, strengthened their minds and mended their hearts. But they could not see these things. And then She awoke. Of all the Deaf Children, Mother whispered to none more than any other. She could not shake them or make them listen. She could only continue to whisper and wait for one to hear. It was then that one of her daughters had a great sorrow. She went to the bank of the stream where grandmother had taught her to fish and it was there she was taught many other secrets too. But grandmother was now gone and the child lay weeping on the mossy bank, her face buried in warm moist velvet of green. When her sobs left her and as she lay in the tranquil comfort of the Great Mother’s bosom, she heard the smallest of whispers. “My love.”
Thinking she must be mad, the daughter almost leapt from the bank. The voice, if it be called that, was at once familiar and utterly strange. Both like and unlike grandmother’s voice, there was something that made her want to hear it again. After a moment she lay back on the luxurious carpet. Wanting and dreading the voice, she waited. And…nothing. And as she lay and stretched on the moss and felt the sun on her back her heart slowed and in the stillness she heard the voice “My Daughter.”
“This is madness,” she thought. No one had ever called her daughter. It was only granddaughter. She had not known her mother. But she whispered or maybe only thought “Yes?”
“Come to me,” the voice said.
“But how? Where are you?”
“I am here”
“But then how can I come to you?”
“You cannot come to me in a place. I am in no one place. I met your grandmother here and I whispered to her but she could only partly hear me. I loved her. And I watched her as she taught you the things I whispered to her but she thought she did not hear. And I met your mother too. But that is a story I cannot tell you now. I have watched over you as I have over all the Deaf Ones. To come to me you must listen. To come to me you must see. To come to me you must use all your senses fully and with patience you will hear my voice more easily in time. The brook lapping the bank is my voice. The yellow of the smallest flower is my voice. The sun that warms your cheek is too my voice.”
“But who are you?”
“I am she who feeds you. She who sends the rain. She who whispers on the wind. I am the mother of all that grows and all that creeps and all that walks. And I have secrets to share. But they are not all easy to learn. I have longed for one to teach them. One who will love them as I have loved them as I have loved my Deaf Children. Will you follow me? Will you learn my ways? It will not be easy. Not all the secrets will leave your sleep untroubled. But there are magics and beauties that only I can show you.”
“How do I begin? How am I to know your voice from all the things I hear and see?”
“In the silent and still places you will hear me. Look for me with quietness. Be calm and walk with me in the evening breeze and in the mists at daybreak and in all places at all times. I am there.”
And the child whispered “Yes” into the warm green moss.
Stillness. For a moment. And then the Great Mother’s voice said “Then let us begin. Find me in the glen where your grandmother taught you to send an arrow straight and true. Find the small herb with leaves like a lion’s teeth and a flower the color of the sun. This will be our first lesson.”