. . .
tonight i dance to grandmother spider's heartbeat.
tonight i sing down the moon.
tonight i sit at the feet of ereshkigal,
persephone and sedna,
the cailleach and the morrigan.
and these dark women, these wisdom keepers, these holiest of space holders, they burn through me.
they move like the earth through my being.
anything that i carry,
anything that i hold,
anything that i cling to that is not in resonance with this current iteration of me, or with the spiral dance of evolution that i am on, is held to the flame.
the destruction in their wake leaves me awestruck,
rendered tiny yet heightened.
delight their way through my being.
their wildfire clears the undergrowth, the brambles, and the deadfall, until they reach the fertile ground they seek; the sacred space to plant the seeds of who i am to be, of who they need me to be.
their long fingers weave truth into my heart.
their voices sing gold into my spine.
their skin patching the places in my own that i have worn thin.
their own hearts beat nourishment and courage into my throat.
their fingernails tear the fear, resistance, and doubt from my flesh.
tonight it's me and a grandmother drum.
me and my blood and the moon.
me and the smoke.
me and these women.
that i may release.
that i may receive.
that i may become stronger, richer, more courageous and more clear on the path.
that i may birth the fecundity of my darkness into the light.
that i may be of service.
and so it is.