Memory Feast

Wishing bones crackle
in flames of sinew.
A dripdrop of hope
down the darkness of the well –
And I haul up my buckets
day after day.

The memory stacks up
the time under my feet.
We are falling through futures,
And I follow the first family home
to the long room that’s come
full circling here.

This feasting goes on,
the beer is on tap,
we are singing the sweet ones –
home again, down again –
as we are all born, in the fire of life.

Wasp Queen

The fox says
have you heard the wasp?
The wasp who stings and bites the herd,
who takes the caterpillar to her nest
to feast her wasplings on the dead.
Who flies headstrong into the wind,
her voice a song that’s barely there,
that calls the highest down to ground
and names each by their truest name.
She, warrior queen, huntress alone,
knows nothing is less than, and nothing is more.

#wild #totems #medicine

Soul Starving

This pen’s wandered through
Marshes of fears to be
Free from the burden that’s
Silenced it’s song

And we cannot follow
Where we fear to tread now
Our hearts go a dancing
Without us in dreams

The world’s the strangest
Message of all, true
And we are the wings upon
Which angels are born, but –

But, we cannot go flying when
Our souls are stolen
By worries like paper
That we cling to, alone

A spirit is movement
That sings of it’s being
And, starving like soldiers,
Our souls long to live

We cannot follow
Where the path is forgotten
Our love goes a soaring
Through dreams that we lose

A spirit is movement
Singing deeply of being
We don’t have to be starving
We can listen
we can breath

//With thanks to Nick Wood of Sacred Hoop, for some gentle inspiration :)