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the moon is rising in the “V” of the tree
where i am open and raw at the heart

soft white orb glows
fills up the chest of my thunder struck tree
houses the soft child
nested in the trunk

pearl essence dots the cells
and tiny moons multiply

the umbilical girl is tucked inside hugging her heart

the white radiance warms and lights the darks spots
the hard holes that hold
the bark of the shelled-out tree is tough and strong
the trunk, it’s vibrant roots travel down, down
intuitively finds the mother womb, the source
she welcomes and obliges
we are her children, she is our mother
this is what is meant to be.

umbilical pumps the blood to the root
keeps us alive
and the moon light
softens the gaze
eases the blow of outer life
magnifies but heals
radiates truth, magnificence

soft child curls to red heart, her comforting gift
rests in the shade of morning glory
night bird flight.

then grey fear catches at the throat
swells and blocks the flow but dams are necessary on this river ride
to measure out the flow

we get stuck and ask why, why
cry out in pain, misery, ego-self, dwarfed into material being…

the moon sings out, drink, drink
drink my moon milk

i serve moon milk to grey ball, shadow and child
this all takes time which
holds us in question, makes us do our homework

all the shame in the world won’t set you free
but love surely will if you are patient

know the moon milk is mother’s milk, it nurtures

then the eddy breaks
and the cork bobs down the river

shaman sucks through a straw and calls the grey ball home, from where it came
all the grey ones inside disburse one by one

go home, past life, go home hard memory misinterpreted stuck in my body

spew musk perfume and tap my body

sing my throat for sacred preparation
like a marriage, my throat must get ready
i tone it clear, sing it through
tap my heart, remind myself

i am tree embodied by Mother, rooted in Grand Mother
blessed by Grand Father, Given Guardians
i am shine
i am child nestled, but more than that
i am tough like tree bark
i am exposed to the elements, mortal and fallible

yet i am true
i can know who i am
i can root, take my time
know myself and own it
like the eyes of a tree i see the moon rising
and it is me.

Art by Carmen Leon

Art by Carmen Leon


i wouldn’t trade you

for a pursed smile behind a locked heart
that looks so good in leotard suburbia

i wouldn’t trade
your spit and blue lips, punch in the throat

for all the gabled lawns in the hamptons
pretending tidy and wrapped in comfort

wouldn’t trade it even though everybody can see through
your thin white skin, you can feel it tear
seeking the purple birth of spring

i wouldn’t trade you for the ring around a fairy
money in the bank
or the symmetry of stable chemistry

it wouldn’t be real

i want you to feel, motherless chimpanzee

your acute appendicitis is as real as your eyes
drilling holes in the falsehood
driving down to the truth that hurts so real

i wouldn’t trade your feelings, thick and red like lava
that stops everything and burns

wouldn’t trade your pearl magic living side by side with fear

wouldn’t even trade the stricken hole in your mouth coughing up roles
like chicklets

staking your place until the earth rots and you pull up your roots
then set again

i wouldn’t trade what’s real

like the trying on of sizes

chewing the gum of bitterness

wouldn’t trade your shadow for the sky scraping transcendence
because it’s down here, down below where the portal is

i know you’ll find it because
you Are a sky-embracer Already.

i wouldn’t trade you for the world.




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

Art by permission of Holly Sierra. See more of Holly’s colorful and divinely inspired art at


I used this journey one night when I had trouble sleeping. Moving backwards in time and being held in the protective and loving embrace of every mother before gave me the gift of sweet sleep. Reflecting on the journey afterwards, a visual of the matryoshka doll emerged.

like butterfly wings that gently gather

then flutter to dust off the tenacious detail and pricks of the day

i fold into myself

then curl me inside the wings of the mother to release

to the dream of assurance, compassion, and peace

i am held in this refuge by mother

when next i see the arms of the one who birthed her

circle and embrace my holder, my mother

then the one who comes even before her swaddles us both

followed by cradler nested in the grand mother before

and she who is held

inside the arms of Mother Heartbeat holds her daughters against her great body

we are embraced, we all

seraph embraces angel tied to butterfly, wound to womb

then Grandmother Wisdom emerges to enclose we all

in protection, understanding and infinite love

mother womb inside mother womb

all down the lineage we are held, one another inside ourselves

and she, Great Grandmother Sky

is held in the heart of our Great Cosmic Mother

and within all these mothers’ arms i am attached

we are invisibly connected

in indivisible

sacred embrace

leaving me to float in Mother Moon’s halo

of grand sleeping dreams

MoonPath by Diane Lee Moomey. See more of her incredible art at

MoonPath by Diane Lee Moomey. See more of her incredible art at






Visualizing a journey back to the Great Mother Protector is a great stress reliever and soothes the inner child, even the adult! You can imagine it any want you want, here is just an idea.

my scared and tired

of jaws so tight

melt me into your waterbed bosom

hold me in your pulse

wrap me away from the outside

protect me, pull me from all of “that” out there

flood me away so i see from afar

my connection, my belonging

in the safety of your embrace,

curled like a child in your palm, detach from the false

allow myself so small and you so big

with you, i can look back and see

the illusion of it all, release what i thought was real

loose jaw, suckle within your aura

and in the den of your womb

i can take a breath

plug into the very Source, the truth of what we all are

and find refuge from the world

Goddess Art, Courtesy of Janice Rocke

Goddess Art, Courtesy of Janice Rocke

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



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:

Photo courtesy of Robin Apple. See more of her work at the RWC Main Gallery or visit her site at:

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