This poem is based upon a past life memory of my daughter’s. It is not easy to put into words the sacred experience of witnessing the resurfacing of this Coming of Age moment, but I felt moved to try.

She remembers standing

on a mountain open to wind

Her face painted in the 4 directions

like a compass pointing her home

red, white, blue and yellow

lines with dashes leading to the center

A neck draped in stones of water

5 triangles tipped to her womb

and the Mother she was leaving behind

There is nothing below me

she reveals open space

 her hands holding what she will take

the feather of a hawk and another stone

flat, cold and smooth

The ceremony held without her

as she becomes a bird

flying into the Light