Listening to the rattle of the reeds
The Old Crone shaking Her bones
Whispers of wisdom unknown.
Returning to the roots of our blood
from which we are birthed
Our true selves, unfold
From beneath the long decay
of past regrets and shame
We, the delicate flower of our hope,
rise cautiously from within our green cocoon.
Wrapped protectively, gently we emerge.
As we feel our empowerment, our divine connection,
we unfurl our vibrancy, our uniqueness
Each rebirth adding a wing to our
cloak of self-emergence.
Against the darkest night : bright white
reflected off the lantern light
Raceme reaching out against an unknown background
She points the way
Beyond our fears;
rising towards the unknown.
Deep within the Earth her power is found
Connected with the mud and blood: the Shamanic Priestess
integrates the dark and light.
Radiant, starry clusters
draw our attention down, pull our attention in
Where we face our shadow selves
and learn the power of love.