Place of Next light

I’ve held it all in,

all the hopes and dreams,

the cries of despair…

Held it all in until today.

Until today when I felt this net of despair

fall over me choking me, strangling me,

blocking the air so I couldn’t breathe.

I saw her tears – Lady Liberty –

as we locked eyes and

knew in our hearts that

the soul of our nation is

now on the auction block.

I keened for hours in the woods.

Keened for what has already been lost…

what is currently being lost…

what is potentially still to come.

I made altars and offered ritual.

Screamed guttural prayers

to the Mother of All

that enough is enough!

Still the tears came,

but the keening vocals grew quieter

as I had no more to give.

Even the crows and hawks went silent

sensing a pause of sacred reverence.

Where to now I asked?

Where do you want to go She replied?

I don’t know.

I’m tired and disillusioned

and want to crawl into my cave

and have the Old Ones wrap

their arms around me.

Then that is what you do.

But before you go, you offer…

One last prayer to the dreamtime…

One last offering of hope planted

in these darkening times…

One last ritual of rebirth that even now

gestates in the womb of the Mother,

that gestates in the womb and heart of you…

One last offering given with all the fight of

the Warrioress that lives within you.

Then you rest and wait and trust

the Ancient Ones to guide you through

to the place of the next light.

What if there is no more light I ask?

Only darkness and evil?

Evil has and will always exist She said,

but so does the light.

Find that place and know

the light always returns.

Perhaps dimmed,

perhaps brightly illuminative,

but the light always returns.

Until that time…

Rest so you are able to still build

altars to new possibilities and

keen over the bones of what is lost.

Rest until that time you can

give voice to the both/and.

Until that time, vision and dream

and allow the Ancestors to wrap you in

ancient wisdom, ancient knowing

as you embrace the sacred dark.

Until such time the light rises like

the woman you are,

blazing and empowered

and screaming like the Banshee

taking no prisoners,

as you build altars to the sacred new.

As you remember you are a

Daughter of the Cosmic Mother…

Daughter of the As Above, So Below

you aspire to the heights and

plunge the depths as you

walk between the worlds.

So scream like the Banshee

and keen over the bones.

Light the fires of ritual

and offer prayers to the

Ancient and Future ones.

Though the world may change, and

perhaps Not in the way you desire,

you will survive and even prosper

IF you remember who you are

and the power you hold.

Postscript: this poem written by Arlene Bailey expresses my emotions so well that I am re blogging it.

The tyranny we have endured – especially as women – for four unspeakable years is almost beyond words… We do not know where we are going but normalcy has returned via Joe Biden’s responses to t’s insanity… He’s got the monster between his teeth by IGNORING him and his tantrums – reducing him to rubble. The SOUL of the Nation and every human being has been at stake – we can only give thanks and pray that the SOUL and BODY of Nature will contain and sustain us even as S/HE begins to repair the damage done.

Every woman I communicate with regularly speaks about being able to BREATHE again. I am still having nightmares of being RAPED – Voice, mind, spirit, soul, and body.

It is so fitting that I publish this woman’s writing on Veteran’s Day when this culture officially celebrates the heroes of war. WE ARE THE HEROINES – THE WOMEN WHO SURVIVED – TO CELEBRATE THOSE THAT KILL IS AN ABERRATION.

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