Musings From The Trail
I am the seed of
The Great Mother.
An Ancient Being
birthed from
Her Cosmic Womb.
A sacred symbol
of the stars,
I AM The Virgin Huntress.
A Woman unto Herself.
~Arlene Bailey
‘The Virgin Huntress’
🌙
Image: Artemis / Diana,
Goddess of wild Nature
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice —
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voice behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do —
determined to save
the only life that you could save.
~Mary Oliver
The Word
Down near the bottom
of the crossed-out list
of things you have to do today,
between “green thread”
and “broccoli,” you find
that you have penciled “sunlight.”
Resting on the page, the word
is beautiful. It touches you
as if you had a friend
and sunlight were a present
he had sent from someplace distant
as this morning—to cheer you up,
and to remind you that,
among your duties, pleasure
is a thing
that also needs accomplishing.
Do you remember?
that time and light are kinds
of love, and love
is no less practical
than a coffee grinder
or a safe spare tire?
Tomorrow you may be utterly
without a clue,
but today you get a telegram
from the heart in exile,
proclaiming that the kingdom
still exists,
the king and queen alive,
still speaking to their children,
—to any one among them
who can find the time
to sit out in the sun and listen.
~Tony Hoagland
in Sweet Ruin, 1992
☀️
Image: Pacific Sun
by Nancy Lankston
River in flood carries me to a new mountain.
Mountain holds me and whispers,
Bringer of the fairy light
Learn to hold the valley… learn to hold.
I rest in the lap of Isis
Sacred mother of all
Tears flow and heal.
Blood river of my ancestors
Washes over me, through me
Dark Goddess smiles.
Just dance your dance.
Just dance your dance.
I am drumming my sister awake
Blooming hills surround
Bee priestesses dance
And Her honey flows.
~Nancy Lankston
☾☽
I offer this poem as an antidote to the political tempest we find ourselves in right now…
Today is neither the beginning
nor the end of the world,
much sadness and happiness
still wait behind the curtain.
If you are one on the Way,
do not lose heart if the distance
seems too far, or the time too long,
for you are the ancient wayfarer
whose real home is love,
and each step you take here
must be marked by your blood.
If water remains still
it is swallowed by the earth;
but if it keeps on moving
the river becomes the sea.
~Hooshang Ebtehaaj, Iran
Poem translated by Salvi Asefi & David Hunter
She who reconciles the ill-matched threads
of her life, and weaves them gratefully
into a single cloth—
it’s she who drives the loudmouths from the hall
and clears it for a different celebration
where the one guest is you.
In the softness of evening
it’s you she receives.
You are the partner of her loneliness,
the unspeaking center of her monologues.
With each disclosure you encompass more
and she stretches beyond what limits her,
to hold you.
~Rainer Maria Rilke
☽☾
#SelfLove
“I am dreaming back my sisters
Whisper-worn footfalls on the Temple steps
Skywalkers
Storm dwellers
Heavy-breasted cauldron keepers
Songweavers
Snake sisters
Darkmoon dancers
Labyrinth builders
Star bridgers
Fiery-eyed dragon-ryders
Wind seekers
Shape shifters
Corn daughters
Wolf women
Earth stewards
Gentle-handed womb sounders
Dream spinners
Flame keepers
Moon birthers
Come home sisters, come home”
~Marie Elena Gaspari