I Fly
I am a woman
Who smells of rust and roses.
I've spent my life remembering what it is
To be made of earth.
Casting off shame daily
Guided by the knowing
In the belly.
I sometimes feel like my body is failing me
When I sweat like a trapped animal
The fear that never managed to escape.
I am a woman
Of prayer and poetry.
And it amazes me that in those moments
When the mind cannot bear any more
The only mantra left
"Hail Mary, full of grace
The lord is with thee."
I am a woman
Of magic and mystery.
Weaving the craft of women
That I've retrieved from the depths
Of my ancestry.
There are those who cannot see
There are those who will never understand.
To be wild and gentle.
Cunning and innocent.
Humbled by the love in the simplest things
Knowing I can be better
Knowing I will be, more and more, a mother
As I am mothered in return
Loving light in all its forms
After so long fighting through the dark.
With each fall, I rise
With each incineration and shaking emancipation
From whatever has been binding
Like a bird
I fly.
Birth Is Supernatural
Birth is always daunting but not for the reason you might think.
Birth is a portal to enlightenment, the death of your old self. Standing on the precipice of birth and knowing it will demand almost more than you can give, but not quite. Knowing that you will be forever changed.
Jean-Yves Leloup says that humans are the bridge between animals and angels. Never is this more obvious than in sacred sexuality and in birth. A woman becomes purely instinctual, with the movement and sounds that she makes, while at the same time suspending her ego and becoming a portal for divine light.
Channelling God energy. Inhabiting your most primal animal self.
In this respect birth is supernatural, as we encompass the entire spectrum, as we roar and journey and commune with our baby, who is simultaneously every baby, while we are every mother there ever was.
We come from love and return to love.
A Bead Is A Prayer
A bead is a prayer.
Sitting down by the river, watching the children play. I see the Mother all around me, in the rushing of the water, in the trees looming over us on the side of the hill.
I marvel at the small and seemingly insignificant steps that brought me here, brought us together as a family. The voice that has guided me all along, the clear urging in moments of panic, the guarantee of my safety and protection from the suffering the grandmothers prayed I would never have to endure.
I sit here with the whisper of the water as she sings the song of healing and renewal. Integration of myself as a young girl now a woman in the mother phase of her life. Turning 30 and knowing less than I thought I did only a few years ago.
I left all groups, religions and ideologies now like I shed everything. All that is left is to seek and see the sacred and honour your inner voice. And thank your Mother.
