Sinner Woman
I am a sinner
I was born a sinner
A woman who cycles with the moon
A woman who holds creation
In the darkness of her womb.
I am a sinner
I was born a sinner
The red thread that weaves
Through the generations.
So many words
Lie like tricks on the tongues of men.
Who know not
When they call you sinner
Whore
Jezebel
They are naming you priestess
Of the ancient line.
You who live in
That dark world of the feminine
They call hell
The Goddess Hel
Like the spark in your womb
She is right there beneath the surface
Of their consciousness
Their fear as spit in their mouth
In every woman they shame.
Their words acknowledging
Your crown of power
Even as they try to bury you
And like the moon
You rise.
- Jenny Wren
I Am The Age My Mother Was
i am the age my mother was when she had my brother
it's been on my mind
and i know it's been on hers too.
the last baby, born at home
my inspiration
my mother's gift to me
whose birth was foretold.
he was her chaos
and her pride and joy.
i am the age my mother was.
i see her in photographs
pale
with masses of dark hair
three little ones
entrusted to her care
even smaller than me.
i am so like her
with fear and frustration
and a yearning for
something more.
she loved mary and the saints
and ritual and nature
her second gift to me.
she never wanted me to be
both mother and father
like she had to be.
knowing that some essential part
would harden under the pressure.
and i always wanted to fit
under a man's arm
head on his shoulder.
i feel her fear and love
now that i am grown
in a different way.
as the door creaks open, my baby turned three
she says,
in the way that mothers who have suffered do
"you could be free, daughter
were you not always at the mercy
of the tides of your body."
without a hint of blame
"don't be like me," she says
"don't be like me."
- Jenny Wren
Her Bone Bundle
It has been a difficult week being stuck in a vibration of fear, in old stories and woundings that weave their way into the present and say things that are not true.
For Christmas I bought myself Her Bone Bundle by Carolyn Hillyer, a dictionary of our Celtic mother tongue and accompanying chants CD. I love Carolyn Hillyer and listened to one of her albums constantly through my freebirth.
In the Bundle, the words slid over my tongue like caramel and made me want to sing, the sounds vibrating in the inheritance in my cells. I have been singing this little song I pieced together today.
Morwen
Swiss tugusyo ounanô
Morwen
Swiss uøor-to
Morwen
Swiss tugusyo do bewa
Buggo
Little girl
You are choosing yourself
Little girl
You are safe
Little girl
You are choosing to be
Soft and tender
- Jenny Wren
