The River Flow

It starts slow,

Drop by drop,

Turning

From white to red.

A whisper from the earth

Outside of me

Within me

"I'm here, I'm here"

She knows

I am not ready to let go

Just yet.

I am under the alder tree

Hands on my belly

Staring up at the sky

Feeling the pulse of the earth

And the lifting

Of the veil

Like a piercing in my head.

She sends me

My daughter

We sit in the garden

Us three

Maiden mother

Crone consciousness

Bleeding on the earth

As we sing

Nourishing the flowers

Of our skin

With lavender oil.

"Soften,

Soften,

Daughters.

Let your grief go."

As I start to cry

The river begins to flow.

- Jenny Wren

Kali

When are we going to take off the comfortable cloak of the victim and really look at ourselves?

When are we going to admit that behind our strong words, our cutting decisions, takes no prisoners dark feminine, is a little girl who is heartbroken?

That we have danced our part with everybody who has walked into our life?

I needed strength and I called on the goddess Kali, dark flames and serpent tongue, to help me do the impossible. She took me to the edge of infinity where she whispered in my ear "How far would you go to get what you want?" I confronted the darkness and myself as a perpetrator as much as I had been a victim and I accepted it. I saw death in myself.

Journeying in a way that I can only liken to the self-annihilation of birth, the mirror held up to your mistakes and your weaknesses. Three days I was there, abandoned in the shadows. My third transformative birthing experience that produced no baby but myself.

Sweating and shaking I denied and denied it and I wanted to run away. You can't run from yourself. Like birth, you can't run away, surrendering to the storm is what gives you the gifts you need to mother.

Just like nature holds all things in balance, we can't live eternally in our dark state.

Acknowledging and assimilating and knowing we always can call on that strength when we need it.

But always remembering. You have been all things to all people.

You are the light and the darkness. You are victim and perpetrator. You have been paradise and hell. And knowing that will set you free.

A Beltane Poem

The Beltane fires are burning low

The flowers are hung to dry

Soon we'll be in summer

With the solstice sun so high

Then you'll feel the spark of life

That's started in your womb

From the Horned God and the May Queen

Their passion in full bloom.

- Jenny Wren