blog description

Old women talk about old things: history, myth, magic and their
checkered pasts, about what changes and what does not.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011


With Your hand

You bade me lay back

With Your touch

You calmed me

From my feet to my heart

And the Great Mother with Her sword

Clove me in two

And pulled from me

Age-old poisons:

Distraction, hesitation, doubt

My Fathers sealed me again

With the new throat my Mother had given me.

Ripe grows the time

To step into a warrior skin

For my blood sings

With the song of the ancestors

Kali has placed Her foot upon my chest

She has walked upon my forehead

With Her jumping skirt of bones

1 comment:

  1. This captures the feeling of celebration I yearn for as a mature woman/crone. Thank you for sharing your artwork.