My Tears Are My Medicine

For a long time my only request, was let me feel, let me heal, let me learn to love.
I should have known to be careful what I wished for.
You so often hear from women "I am afraid to cry because if I start I can't stop."
I understand this
Because I cry weekly.
I joked to him that putting eyeliner on in the morning is a futile endeavour.
Or maybe my own joke with the universe
As God has me meet them halfway.
Because they know that
My tears are my medicine that waters the parched ground of my feminine heart.
For the old version of myself who could not and would not let go.
Afraid that if she dropped her guard for a second
Her castle would fall to the enemy.
Now I am a woman who is too much,
Who has softened beyond all hope of return
A woman who wails and writes and prays
And soaks in hot water
And lets herself be kissed better
Where once I would go still as death
And leave my body, teeth chattering
To escape the pain.
My body still lets me down
My body is tired of living in fear
But now this body has learned to let itself
Be soothed
And the sadness moves through me
In a space safer than any I've known.
And when I am spent,
Instead of running
I've learned to stay.
- Jenny Wren

Blood And Flowers

Sometimes I think women are made
Of blood and flowers.
The little girls named
After innocent blooms
My own daughter
Named for the violets
In the autumn.
I remember
The women of years past
Stringing dried petals together
And singing to the Goddess
With a rosary
Before Mary was formed
In the consciousness
Of her mother
We forget
We spring up from the dirt
And to Her we return.
Not a creation of some
Abstract sky ruler
But conceived in the womb
Of the mother
Our mother.
When we open to full womanhood
We are
The lotus between the thighs
The jewel of creation
The rose of the womb
And like Blodeuwedd
We flower women wander off
In search of that which we desire
Following the call
Of our hearts.
They call that betrayal
In those tales.
So when you name that little girl
Thinking to sweeten her
Never forget
Who she belongs to
Don't be surprised
When she leaves you behind
For her true nature.

- Jenny Wren

Imbolc and the return of the maiden

Imbolc and the return of the maiden

The wheel turns again today as we usher in the light of the Goddess Brigid. Also known as St Brigid in the Christian tradition, worship of the Goddess in her maiden form could not be eradicated by the coming of patriarchal religion and her light still shone bright.

Imbolc is all about new light and new hope, moving from the dead expanse of winter, the deep contemplation and reflection of the Crone, into the spark of fertility and return of life. The releasing, the processing, the hibernation of these dark months is culminating in a shedding and renewing.

You may be feeling called to write, to create. You may be processing how it felt to be a maiden or young girl and how you feel ready to reclaim the things that you loved when you were younger.

There is a sweet innocence in the energy of Brigid's festival, symbolised by the lamb, snowdrops and doves. Crosses and candles are also her symbols.

Some affirmations for Imbolc...

I am always moving towards the light

Spring always comes again

I feel my innate wholeness and goodness

I am a unique spark of life and light

I am an expression of divine love

I accept myself wherever I am on my journey