Bloodroot, Black Cohosh Teach



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

in re-emergence.

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.


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