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A God(dess) Who Bleeds

Artist unknown

we need a god who bleeds now
a god whose wounds are not
some small male vengeance
some pitiful concession to humility
a desert swept with dryin marrow in honor of the lord
we need a god who bleeds
spreads her lunar vulva & showers us in shades of scarlet
thick & warm like the breath of her
our mothers tearing to let us in
this place breaks open
like our mothers bleeding
the planet is heaving mourning our ignorance
the moon tugs the seas
to hold her/to hold her
embrace swelling hills/i am
not wounded i am bleeding to life
we need a god who bleeds now
whose wounds are not the end of anything

~Ntozake Shange

Uterus Blooming I by Catherine Suleiman
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My Body

“I am not your cornfield,
not your uranium mine, not your calf
for fattening, not your cow for milking.

You may not use me as your factory.

Priests and legislators do not hold
shares in my womb or my mind.

This is my body. If I give it to you
I want it back.

My life is a non-negotiable demand.”

~Marge Piercy,
‘Right to Life’ excerpt

♾

Image: Venus by Susan
Seddon Boulet

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Becoming Elder

“…To a woman of the Celtic nations, to become Elder is above all to become Cailleach: to represent the integrity and health of the wild places and creatures of this world.

To become Elder is to become strong – strong as the white old bones of the earth, strong enough to endure the long, lonely vigil to the end of the world.

To become Elder is to hold the power, stay the course.

Above all, to become Elder is to become the bean feasa, the Wise Woman: the one who knows the secrets and speaks the languages of the land, who speaks with the moral authority of the Otherworld, who weaves the dreaming of the world.”

~Sharon Blackie
www.sharonblackie.net

🌙

I have a new goal.

Image by Carolyn Hillyer

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She

She is the Life/Death/Life force, she is the incubator. She is intuition, she is far-seer, she is deep listener, she is loyal heart. She encourages humans to remain multilingual; fluent in the languages of dreams, passion, and poetry. She whispers from night dreams, she leaves behind on the terrain of a woman’s soul a coarse hair and muddy footprints. These fill women with longing to find her, free her, and love her.”

~Clarissa Pinkola Estes

🌙

Image: Triple Goddess
by Amy Haderer