There is a song

There is a song on the wind

calling me home

calling my heart to open its wings

to fly

There is a song on the wind

calling my name

with the bones of my ancestors

i am scattered 

into life

There is a song on the wind

calling me to love

to open my arms

to enfold wonder

to know its gentle rains

There is a song on the wind

calling me to surrender

to humility i fall

amongst the leaves and shoots

amongst the roots of the yew and the oak

i fall

There is a song on the wind

calling me to beauty

whisperings, melodies

the heavenly choir of angels sing

brush past my cheek

as a feather falls 

from its wings

There is a song on the wind

calling me to dance

dancing dreams into starbursts

dancing fears unto the night

dancing spirit to fly

out into the universal flow

where all of love is cradled in a bough

of a soft tree

This is where your song will find me

This is where the song will be

and so the war comes to the beat of the drum

Grimy 
boneless fingers

foraging beneath the overcoats

the wrath of the young

has no warrant here

amidst the fallen

 frames

of half bled men

the sturdy robust chancer

found wandering

without a name

for when the rain came

so did the silent beat of the drum

the war song

of mans last hope

drummed into earth

as ash

no name shall follow us here

for the earth cannot answer

with love

the earth can only answer with cries

of the night

child bearing screams

that carry life

through her veins

born out

into spite

yesterday

yesterday

followed by night

the cradle

years rolled by

of woven blood

forgotten rule

lay in mud

 dire cosmic dream

of an eon lost

 waves of god

and wanderlust

 salvaged edge

hardened steel

 blade that bled

 cu roted wheel

 heart of truth

soldered steed

seeds of change

blown on a breeze

here lies sorrow

here lies greed

here lies foolish

wanton deed

lay them out 

for truth to bear

witness forth

thy soul to share

 now in freedoms breath are we

billowed out for us to see

the new dawn

brings us home 

as we are born 
as we are grown

The goddess of the night

The darkness swings its mighty pendulum

spins the clocks into unfettered sleep 

 stillness of the moon is awakened

owl flies swiftly

silently unto wisdom

she moves

her cloak, the black silk of night

grants shelter

protects trespass

her song caresses the veil

washes away daylight

elemental voice of the deep blue knowing

her senses dance

ebb and flow

in the sway of the moon

sweet arrow

rested at her side

the sacred blood of the forest

 

Her soft clad walks upon times mantle

bracken cracked and heather grew

the heart of flight

the trip and fall of light

rest still upon the heart of man

She sees what the heart of man does not

she hears the distant cry of the pine

the fallen slumber of the night

is pierced by their cries

Awaken 

child of the sky

and of the moon

Awaken

child of the peat

and the bog

Awaken 

child of the ocean

and the tide

Awaken 

child of the flame

and the hearth

Rise up and remember your name

Physician, heal thyself - the warriors path

Lately, I have been trying to pinpoint exactly when it was that i started to wake up.  By waking up, i mean when it was i started to question the world around me and see myself for the first time in my own eyes. I mean, its not like i just woke up one morning and  realised that we are all particles of love and that we are dreaming this whole shebang. 

 

My life has been a series of events and unpeelings, of knowings and unknowings, a winding road that weaves its way like the mighty serpent of creation itself, cleverly and with finesse.  After each lesson, a skin is shed from the cosmic snake of our own beings and we are closer to the collective consciousness of love.  Each lesson is a homecoming.

 

Awakening doesn't really encompass the experience i am trying to describe, i prefer to think of it as a remembering.  Remembering the truth that has been with us since our beginning,  Remembering that lives in our energetic bodies, as DNA lives in our genes.  Remembering, that trickles slowly back to life.  

 

Remembering the truth that we are full to the brim with love and light and that the rest of which  we call reality is matter.  Solid, clumpy and rounded matter, that has its own place and beauty and that thus enables us to experience wisdom from form and personal relationships.  Matter that gives us purpose and drive, passion and virility. Matter that has given us bodily experience in a universe filled with light.  The universal symbol of Yin and Yang, is of light and matter.

 

As a child, i knew instinctively to commune with nature, when i was sad or in pain, i would sit under a tree and let my sorrow seep into the earth below.  The trees were my healers, my comforters and my custodians.  Music, another teacher of mine, introduced itself to me as a nine year old girl, it allowed me to voice the light inside me that i couldn't see in the mirror, it soothed and it vibrated joy into my world of grey. 

 

As a teenager, amidst the working class, comprehensive school jungle that i was busily navigating my way through, poetry found me.  And just like that, the remembering accelerated.  Through the poetry that i began to write, a powerful voice began to emerge, a voice i couldn't fully comprehend, but was intimate with. This voice was kept to myself.  Locked away in my room, i would sing and write and weave a world that had no resemblance to the one outside of myself.  This remembering, was a lonely experience and i felt that my peers around me and my own family would never understand the depth of my new found mystery. 

 

So i dreamt, wrote and knew but kept my remembering inside. My body and the world around me became a clumsy vehicle in which i found it increasingly hard to navigate.  I began to loathe the world of matter and that included my own body.  I carried the weight of mental, physical and sexual abuse and saw matter and the material world as the enemy.  I raged war with what i saw in the mirror, i waged war with the world.  I sat, day after day, falling deeper into feelings of alienation.  This vague and foggy resentment manifested in my body as apathy and my own power turned inwards from anger into self loathing.  Adolescence and my early twenties were the battle torn years of my remembering. The training years of the warrior that lives inside of me.

 

My remembering ambled along at a seemingly even pace until i became a mother for the second time, then it exploded like a meteor shower across the blackness of night.  I was literally thrust out of my body by the energetic forces of nature and was reminded that i was nature. I became the lion headed goddess, the great mother, the weaver of creation.  When women become mothers they are reunited with the divine goddess. We are chaotic and beautiful and  we are both light and matter in perfect unison.  Even death itself becomes spectacular. 

 

Everything just accelerated after that and i went through one initiatory episode after another, remembering, suffering, stumbling, learning, raging, growing, loving, knowing, its was like a speeding train running right through the core of universe, and i was part of that universe, for the first time i knew that i was perfect part of that universe, in my imperfection.

 

The road to self awareness is a rocky and seemingly narcissistic one at times.  Peeling back the layers, each one a moment of profound understanding, strips away our adapted selves and reveals truth. Stumbling across ones own ego can send us spiralling into a whirlwind of fear,  anguish and self loathing, followed by a good dose of delusional thinking and denial.  To face ourselves in the mirror and piece by piece remove the layers we have spent a lifetime building up or acquiring, means looking our own mortality squarely in the eye, it means we have to walk through our own demise. Death is our new best friend. 

 

Death is the purpose to life, it is the charge in our battery, the reason to grow, the cursor, marker or point of reference.  Death itself is the energetic epicentre of the universe.  To understand it, means confronting ourselves and our deepest held beliefs and fears.  Death is not the enemy, fear is the enemy.  Fear is the burden of our age, fear represents the misuse of matter and the glitch in the system.  When each and every one of us walks through our own fear, and collective fears, then we shall have nothing left to fear, then we shall truly remember just how beautiful everything is.

 

To really now others, we must first know ourselves.  We must be the warriors of our own hearts. 

were there is love

hold my hand

all is not lost

for love in the binding fluid

that flows through

us

into the vastness

we call life

each teardrop of dew

each memory forsaken

is never wasted

even the heavy clay boot

of men marching towards 

us

ruthless 

sod

we are still one

holding on

to the world 

our mother 

as she spins

us out of time

seemingly casting us 

out 

as nets

to catch the rain

were there is love

there is hope

where there is love

there is strength

where there is love

there is life

where there is love

there is reason

hold my hand

through the stormy sea

healing will come

when the sorrow is done

A healing prayer

the drip of soul

from cradle to grave

unheard 

 unexpressed

 voice of the slave

 mother weeps for her unkept soul

she holds out her hand for us to remember

 children of yesterday rise out

from the ashes of greed

burning wounds

heavy hearts

the gentle ones look on

soothe souls with love

heal wounds with patience

unite us in fellowship

so once more our sweet nature

can bloom

within the embrace of our mother