To expound upon beauty
Uniquely yours to release
Dive out of the covers
And breathe fresh
Life yours to define
Mold ripe potential
Defining the turn of lines
Washing the edges with color
Until you forget work
In favor of creation
There is no need to rise
Above or below
But inward
The extraordinary is spiral
You, reaching to discover
The ecstatic dance of joy
In your own rhythm
The steps lighten
Opening the beauty of you
Again
I have been missing Sue, I’m sure I always will. Some days the pull to feel her presence is stronger than others. The other day, a friend of mine asked if I had reached out to her across the veil. Deliberately parting the veil is not something I do often these days. I have grown weary of the numinous and perhaps a bit distrustful. So many conspiracies and lunacies are now attached to the spiritual communities, yet there are aspects of home that cannot be denied when one steps into the space of silence. I’d like to think I heard her voice, again, in these words who are not just for me, but for anyone who doubts who they are. I share them here with visuals from the wonderful photographers on Pexels, open to individual interpretation…
You are evergreen boughs seeking water
You are a child gliding on a silver kite into the wind, breathless in wonder
You are hope letting go of despair
The wild window of wonder beckoning us back to life
You are beautiful in the essence of self
You are one thousand moments waiting to occur
The slipstream in the current pulling into infinite possibilities
You are life. Precious and uniquely yours to define.
I saw you in the moors today
your hair wild like milkweed
blown free with she who waits
standing in the valley between
The wind, beckoning a caress
two faces turned upward in joy
Water, cleaving the breasts of the goddess
your feet streaming the memory of stars
The renewal of spring lapping the hillside
like a newborn lamb, and you standing
beside her remembering it all
hands clasped in reunion
opening the womb. The body
becoming formless, ripe, orange
walls pulsing the mother-beat
winged emergence breaking
through stone. Guardians
fortifying the chamber vibrating
your song as you become the light
of rainbows, again. Isis
enfolding and opening
lifts the veil to the path of stars
spiraling to welcome the dragon
descending, running the water
gold
For Sue
The opened body becomes the vessel
of healer and also receiver
I find her in the Seer’s Circle
cloaked in the feathers of owl, anointing
those who come to give also receive
in her beloved place of heather and stone
time and space unfold into the opening
I feel the press of her lips between the brow
🐉
Seven days brings us back to her circle
to witness the winged soul ever-giving
feathers of bird become the butterfly
“Look closely,” she tells me. “See.”
I watch membranes divide
into notes. Hear the music of cells
holding the song that is life
Enraptured until form turns slug-like
and I question the pull back to density
reluctant to notice what is soft is also strong
vulnerable, yeilding
the snail enters the body’s chariot
A tiny spiral opens
into infinity
and suddenly we are in the place of stars. Vast
limitless
the serpent pulls us into its arbor
to understand rebirth
above a farmer’s field
density becomes a head of stone
fixed as though immobile
“Each is a piece of Her. A brain’s repository.”
I nod, understanding distance to be a ruse and watch
wisdom circle the mound in the body of the serpent
collapsing time’s hold while the clock splits open
rising sinuous into the darkness
the serpent swallows the sun, transforming
into dragon. Now winged
returning to seed the waiting womb below
light splits the body’s veins
finding the path once again
Soar
I dreamt of the voice shuttered
tight against the storm. Words
held behind the clouded window, urgent
We are here!
Blue feathers lined in black resting
in sunlit trees. Impossibly large
No, they cannot be mine
I doubted the possible
stroking the membrane of the quill
so many gathered stories filling
the space beneath, calling
through the echo of time
wondering why the throat
is like a storm cloud waiting to break
the sun. Wondering why
space needs to be confined while the bird
of truth lies in wait
for permission to soar
Once again, I had a feeling that Sue’s photo would echo my dreams. For Sue’s #writephoto writing prompt,#Soar.
I’m trying to imagine a world made new
this riptide of dis(ease) softening into rebirth as seven
billion people grow golden filaments
around the darkness of our womb. At night
I claw dirt back into Her body
to hear the heartbeat wrapped inside
release the tired shoulders, She whispers, you
who have learned to wear blades
as you seek to stretch beyond the chrysalis
breathe whole
arms, ready to release
the heavy weight of fight
trap the body collecting pain
without permission. You wounded
warriors of the light
stamp identity upon the heart
pressing the false hold into a battle cry
lodged inside a forgotten throat
Sing truth to open the portal to the heart
and allow the soul
to shout victory
darkness is a demon
only if left unexplored. Let the cry loose
Let it soar through the shadowland inside
until it ignites the joy that is life. Real
life. Release those golden threads and weave
the memory of unity
whole
Together
At the edge of land day releases
back to the sea to be reborn
Oh, to be one tiny grain tumbling into endless re-
union, pulled effortlessly back into the tide
waiting to let go. To feel a full surrender
of trust knowing unity awaits
the pure ecstatic rush of release
Oh, to be birthed, over and over
by love as day collapses into night
For Sue Vincent’s #writephoto prompt #together
I cannot help thinking of the heart
and life’s breath held in separation
A viral wrap, searching for community
opening the return of the forgotten
goddess. She peers green eyes of the forest
through locks of fire. An earthen trunk
rooted to the life lines. Horns tuned
to the stars, bridging the divide
How everyone is feeling
the broken as fear’s seize spreads dis-
ease. Time, collapsing and morphing
twisting minutes too surreal to be real
Too real to be false. Lies breaking the voice
gasping for air through constricted lungs
while she breathes her return, softly beckoning
from the shadows. Can you see me now?
she asks. The key is held in your heart
and all
Some say the giants are still here
Their memories held inside the stones
They watch the movement of time
and grimace at our indifference
Some weep for lack of care
Borrowing water from the sky
Our eyes see inert bodies
ravaged by weather and not
the chiseling hand. Yet the eye watches
waiting for the few who wish to spiral inward to stir
memories beyond dimension. The giants seek
the seekers and wait. Feeling the press of footsteps
blindly walking. The push of restless bodies
Listening to “Hurry up.” “Let’s move on”…
to the next best thing. Whatever that is.
They watch. Eyes following too slowly to be caught
Lids, never blinking. Legs tucked into the land
who knows their breath. Their hearts,
held in Her hands pulse the music of the land
She, who never forgets her children
moves love through tired veins to spiral the waiting eye
Forever looking for the one who will stop
and remember.
For Sue Vincent’s #writephoto prompt, #memory
Still
The body, subject to the mind,
reaches for more, grabbing at an illusion
never realized. It seeks to be sustained by want
collecting treasures to adorn it.
False garments of the self dim the light inside.
The body, subject to the heart,
becomes a vessel of love.
Its hands, stilled from grasping,
hold only peace, and its face
reflects the light of the sun
free to move through its skin
igniting the world around it
like a beacon of hope
For Sue Vincent’s weekly #writephoto prompt, #still.
The Light Behind the Story 