THE MOVEMENT

When my Nanna left the Earth, she turned into a lavender bush.

Lavender can weather storms.
Calm in chaos, she self-seeds, finding the space to grow,
She sighs, she smiles, and she knows-
She can create new bushes that may be the favourite of one,
But will give love, to many.
Lavender is fortunate
She is favoured
Lavender has faith.

French Lavender is bold.
Saturated with oil, French has oil that sticks,
Oil drenches the hands that strip her stalks,
Her delicate leaves flutter high in the skies, looking for souls to save.
I strip her stalk in one fast, deliberate action, and instantly,
My hands, feel the nurture, of her touch.
My hands become healing hands,
Healed from Lavender’s love.

Cross the Atlantic to sit in gardens to sip your tea,
English Lavender, perfectly poised
Is well-defined, direct and defiant-
She leaves nothing to chance.
But is there a wildness, too, deep within this English seed?
Her Rolling Stones skimmed far and wide, across all lands and seas,
They searched the scatter, to find their place
It’s assured, writes history.

Her white, pink, purple and violet hues are all
Ready to be seen, to be smelt.
Aromatic wine so strong, is still a floral, feminine scent.
Her ears pricked, she is ready and alert-
Her pride, her power, has found - her voice.
'Stand tall and believe. Believe, in yourself.'
In me, her voice is strong,
I feel her truth. It stirs, she rises, I stand ready.

'Have faith, trust the wind that blows,
There will be turns, sharp twists in every road,
There may be highs and there will be lows, but
Put to rest now – all of your woes.
Fly high, and follow your nose,
And trust, that love, can only grow.'

French knows truth.
She is as idealistic, as she is free,
Standing tall, ever flexible as she sows,
Strengthened by wind.
She draws truth from the air she breathes, and
French - offers #resistance.
Her voice becomes voices that become one again,
An echo, loud, clear, rings true -‘Now, is the time’.

Inhale Lavender, deeply. Slowly. Respectfully.

She invites you to become strong, strong and stronger still
In self-belief.
Her aromatic peace guides all
To heal.
Her angelic notes call,
Like a chant that sows real peace
For it is in true peace, feminists believe.
Nanna whispers, in my ear.
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