Morrigan's Yew

Morrigan’s Yew grows strong and tall
She shelter’s me in the dark
Beneath her branches I softly fall
to be grounded by her roots.
For though my journey is made alone,
walked both in day and night,
She guides me to where all is shown,
My truth brought to the light.

Boudicca's Hare

Boudicca’s Hare is swift and strong
She guides me through the mystery.
The path I walk is ever long
Yet I travel not alone.
For with me comes the warrior
And the gentle love of She
Who guides me to my inner core
Where my truth is shown.

Danu's River

Danu’s River lives in me
Her blood is my blood
Where I flow so does She
We are ever bound.
I ride the surface, walk her shores
Dive deep beneath her waves
Her current carries me to my core
Where my truth is found.

Breathing into me

Just past 5 am
I am watching the sun rise over the mountains and ocean.
It is warm on my face, this sun,
and the smell of the sea is rich and strong.
All around me is the song of many birds.

I am alone here.
No one walks the beach at this hour,
so I survey a shore line free from human interference
– except my own.

I say a prayer to Great Spirit; a prayer for my family – all of them.
I pray that one day we know love and peace and healing – together.
Even as the doubt rises within me
I know how strong the hand of Spirit is
and that all things are possible.

A man now walks the beach.
He faces East and raises his arms
as if to embrace the fire in the sky –
perhaps he did.

I love where I live.

It has been a hard time.
The pain of my family finally spoken;
truth shared and denied, anger erupting, tears released.
I love these people, all of them,
and I grieve even as my own anger rises –
rises because of the grief old and big.
I have never been comfortable with it,
have always known we deserve better,
have never been able to get to “better”.

I am releasing so many dreams and expectations,
allowing for the possibility of an unremarkable life.

It may be that I will never write that book,
live in the home with huge windows in the forest,
save my family.

When I feel the letting go there is sadness
but there is also more room for breath.
Perhaps I will only ever accomplish that…

Breathing into me.

Sustaining me.

Me being enough.

I have seen the fear in my family, all of us, fear I know so well.
The fear that drives us to clutch to what we know,
cling to it as though it will save us,
although it never has.

I realize that we have never feared things dying –
instead things living.
But we have mighty hearts and live anyways.

I listen to waves come to shore,
to angry crows claiming food,
to the gentle foot falls of a man walking on stones.

This life is full and beautiful –
as am I…

and that man DID embrace the Sun.

And I am breathing into me.

How a Woman Ages

35 years of bleeding,
a wonder; how much has been shed!
The cleansing, renewal and letting go,
Earth’s magic alive in me.

Some say it is my most powerful time,
some say it is deeply unclean…
For me it is the black velvet edge of sleep –
leaning into soulful darkness –
hugging my own body
with tender memories.

I know it is coming to an end,
soon the time will arrive when it will not
and there will be grief
and relief.

You see – this is how a woman ages;
our breasts – from which you fed
on which you lay your weary head
listened to the ‘thump thump’ of this strong heart -
begin to wilt
like the keening woman,
who falls yet is fierce in her sorrow;
passionate still, but tired.

Hair begins to grow in places unfamiliar –
it tickles and softens the lines in our skin,
makes fuzzy the places that once were clear.

The waters of our bodies sometimes trickle,
like a retiring mountain stream,
when we are full with joy or rage,
our lives rich with feeling;
this moistness evidence of our passion.

Silver shines in our hair,
curls up close to our skull.
I believe wise women who came before me
live in each one.
They whisper to me and we snort and giggle.
Sometimes we shriek.

This is how a woman ages
Our bodies returning to the earth,
plainly reaching down to Her.
Our blood tranquil – our sensuality nestled
deeply in wombs that no longer shed.

This is how women have always aged.
Without pills and surgeries and plastic baggies
hopelessly trying to mimic these soft swinging full breasts.

I will age as my mother, my grandmother, my foremothers,
as all women; with some sadness and with some relief,
carried in this magnificent body -
bent and stooped -
but real,
until it is time to turn my face
and make my journey home.

By Deborah May 2010
(image by Durga Bernhard)

All of Her All of Me

I looked into the mirror one day
and saw the softness of my hair.
My breasts sat high, my eyes shone clear,
my skin was smooth and fair.

And somewhere in my memory
past time and spoken word
from a place of new beginning
a gentle voice was heard

Look and I will show you
the colour of your love
the orange hue of passion
and the green of perfect trust.

A maiden I may be
but secrets in my eyes I see
and I know that it is me
who is hope for humanity
•
I looked into the mirror one day
and noticed the widening of my hips.
My breasts were round, my hair was wild
there was a fullness to my lips.

And somewhere in my memory
past time and spoken word
from a place of fruitful healing
a loving voice was heard

Look and I will show you
the creations you can birth
from the pain and bliss of living
come your offerings to Earth

A mother I may be
and from my core I give to thee
the healing that is me
that my children may be free.
•
I looked into the mirror one day
and saw the dimness in my eyes
my breasts had sagged, my hair was gray
my face was etched with lines.

And somewhere in my memory
past time and spoken word
from a place of winters stillness
a wise old voice was heard

Look and I will show you
the bounty of your harvest;
the joys of mine bestowed to thee,
as you return to Goddess.

A crone I may be
and with my voice I do decree
come to know all three
the Maiden, Mother, Crone in thee.

Our Nature

The saying “become one with nature” makes no sense to me. One does not become one with nature any more then the ocean becomes one with the bay. They are one and the same – a continuous flow – one to the other. So are we. We are nature. Although we talk of “returning” to nature, what we are really doing is realizing more of our Self, discovering aspects outside of us that we hold within.

The blood of our bodies is our life force; nourishing us, replenishing us. As blood flows through our veins it carries the life force within that sustains us. Blood is our oceans, our rivers and creeks that carve a path within to the heart of who we are.

Our bones and skin are our foundation and protection. These make us strong; able to withstand the physical challenges of life. They grant us the ability to hold and to carry, to resist and to yield. Like the earth, rocks and trees; we are solid, able to carry the weight of our bodies and the desires of our hearts.

Each breath we take is like the wind sweeping across the earth, cleansing and clearing away what debris it encounters. Our breath is the most powerful of our reflexes, each second from birth to death it sustains us, feeds us. And like a gentle warm breeze our breath can calm us and soothe our soul.

Within all of us there is the fire of Spirit; the passion that leads us to love, to defend, to change and to create. Our spirit is the essence of who we are; the real Self beyond the doing. Spirit is the being that we are.

Our Spirit is present in all other elements within – it rides on the waves of our bodies; flowing through our blood and feeding our life force. Spirit rests deep in our bones and on the surface of our skin; igniting our powerful selves to stand firm or to bend and embrace. Spirit is carried on the winds of our breath and in the sound of our voice. Connecting with breath will always remind us that Spirit resides within.

We ARE nature, no matter if we live among the trees of a forest or the skyscrapers of a city – we are the rivers, the trees and rocks, the cleansing fresh air and the Spirit of the natural world. What we do to nature, we do to our Selves.