poetry

Hylde-mođer (Elder Mother)

Holding My tender silver reaching roots in winter cradle death. Moulding, mourning, moving back. Icy winds whirl around my naked …

Crone Mother at Calan Gaeaf

Now Winter is calling her. The Western Gates are open, And once again she stands in liminal space. Not spinning, …

Eclipsing

The milkweed pod splits in my hands. And silky white seed tails scatter through my fingers and across the meadow. …

Crone Mother at Calan Mai

Now Summer is calling her. And she is leaning into that liminal space. Not spinning, not weaving, not wondering. Standing …

The waters within me

How do I let you flow? The watery tears of my sorrow, my heartbreak, my grief? Shall I reject you …

Poem

I can feel the words rise up from my soul. At first formless and nameless. They flow through my heart …

Zombie Walk in October

Shuffling along a broken path, Arms swaying limply, Matted hair hanging around her face. She trudges from emptiness to emptiness. …

Finding Awen

Where is Awen? It is where I find myself riding that wave between the earth and the sky and in the …

Michonne

What did we call her? Michonne. Because we knew she would be fearless and strong. And would live and love …