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fall into your grief, your strife, your weakness, my child
fall into my arms in a heap…
only then, when you are so vulnerable
can i awaken in you the consolation
the wisdom
the strength
that has been planted in you all along.
So be not afraid of your weakness, my child,
nor your tears — fall into it — use it to fall into Me (your Greatest You).
i am waiting. i am always here. bring your vulnerability to Me.
for only when you are feeling hopeless
is there an opening
for you to anchor
into your deepest power.
Art by Carmen Leon
it was before the en. when circular doorways and soft-edged answers grooved the way
it was the time of howling blood and baby bile without shame
a time before pipes
and indoor plumbing
when the loss of a golden ring was mourned and memory buried
not caught in the drain trap
wrenched open with sweat stained tool
and rescued to Behold…
those had not been invented yet
before high rises and forklifts
it was a time to praise the moon
to plant before sunrise
in the days when a stone hovel was enough
and the rain bled through
when rituals and ceremony were the staple
a circular life clean of edges
with eyes that could see into the third dimension
with hearts that beat with mother earth
and there was death and the unexplained
there was drought and suffering
laughter and feast, cold and cuddling
it was simple and fatal, this cycle of life
a circular accepting.
then the time of en, came the linear
the angular
the comfort of straight walls and roofs that didn’t leak
the striped sun divided the land called his
the we became wom of en: the wombs of him
the chattel who were owned
called wom-en
the sunset of the goddess, who sank into a spiral
for millennia
now weaves her way into many hearts
pregnant until the planting is ripe
when the meadow is soft and round
and we can welcome back the birth of the bud
the Divine Feminine
to soften the angles, breathe bucolic breath into the corners
release the linear and the left brain from their burrows
blossom the unseen sweetness
of the meadow
applaud pointless play and sing the exploring stream
to find ourselves back in the heart
of the we and the en
brought to Mother together the curve and the line
the rise
of Women.
Art by permission of Holly Sierra. See more of Holly’s colorful and divinely inspired art at http://www.hollysierra.com/
Divine Mother
on these covered streets
may i hear your footsteps leading me
despite the electric voices
may i listen for your soft tone
with my heart and not my head
i pray i will heed your advice
and when i don’t
i pray i will still receive it.
Divine Mother
Sister
Goddess
i am more than your daughter
in a busy world
in spirit, i am Mother too
in heart, your Sister Kin
at my deepest self, I am Goddess to you
may i remember this and quell the frenetic
by being open to you like never before
in spite of this howling world
may my quickening enliven your spirit
make material your existence, to bring peace
to the heart of all things
Oh Mother
in this busy world
your Sacred touch on my forehead
is my fervent prayer
Photo courtesy of Robin Apple. See more of her work at the RWC Main Gallery or visit her site at: 500px.com/robinapplepeopleshots
we walk hand in hand toward the precipice
the big fall is coming
i can feel it in your slight distance
the gap gets just a little wider every day
your warm love does not burn me as bright
you pay less attention to me and pull away
into some place i am not invited
the pit i will fall into is like a grave
you do this every year
somehow i know if i sit it out, you will come back to me
maybe you just need time alone, time away
from me
i want you too much, you think me selfish
that i’ve had enough, too much of you
your steps away from me grow farther and will soon
leave me in the shadows with only your halo to flicker memories
of our hot nights together
plump blackberry days and watermelon nights
so hot to burn my skin
your kisses fade only by drops each day, but i can feel it already
i beg you, don’t retreat, don’t shut me out
but i know what is coming
we have done this dance before and before
it is less and soon i will have only grey where there was sun and blue
i will drop into persephone’s fall
cover my vacant bones that housed your sunshine
make a cup of tea
and wait the long winter
for your return
Art courtesy of Dolly Rappaport
this is an ekphrastic poem written for Sarah Curtiss’ art piece below by the same title
this is the way life is
with its boxes and swirls
appearing as snares, suction cups and mazes
they are everywhere
you step into them everyday
get boxed in
circle around and around
then trip into a dead end
before you see clearly, after so many lifetimes
that the boxes are windows
the swirls are clouds to carry you away
the rubik’s cubes are your own lethal thoughts
so i lie down to not think
i am awake but i do not participate
i recline quietly as
ancient labyrinths order my hair
secret mazes mark my body
sacred swirls coil my mind
cyclones siphon my drops
i shut my drain pipes
to all that is going on
like music in the background
and fall into myself
into my infinity
spiral like a snake where gaia meets the cosmos
let the energy flow
fly above where the patterns take helix shape
until i am free of the circling thoughts
material traps
and can wrap my being around
the divine pattern
of all there is
Meditation by Sarah Curtiss
see more of her art at graceartgroup.com
this is exactly
what i should be doing
splayed out on the grass soaking in the green
my toxic week leaks into mother earth
let the bitters dissolve
cajole with the underworld
and relieve the disturbances up here
mother earth sucks me hard against her bumpy surface
into her cosmic tendrils
like a sponge in a centrifuge
compost my sickness, Great Mother Gaia
pull this turmoil out of my cells and into your sacred vastness
hold me tight i surrender
i can feel your thirsty roots
wrap their lovely green arms around me
i am soaking up your green and your brown
your crystalline vibration
your wondrous gaia-ness
i surrender to you, Great Mother
my eyes drink in the green against blue
my skin against your skin
this is exactly
what i should be doing
Courtesy of Carmen Leon
