"Nights of hard frost
in the holy tree
trapped like a bird
with wet frozen feathers
I’d lay myself down in a sheet of ice
my feet sticking out,
to long withered stalks,
on the drone of hope,
frost of morning hardening again,
my pulse of song
into bitter laughter.
I’d be away in a dizzy flight
in mad career
in springing leaps
from elm to yew
harrowing myself on spines of blackthorn,
the people thought,
deep in my marrow,
deep between marrow and bone,
between the lunatic madness
and the madness of a sane woman
memory was nesting, brooding,
sputtering with damp heat..." .
This is a poem I discovered through the author Sharon Blackie, who wrote If Women Rose Rooted, a book that transformed me. The poem was written by Biddy Jenkinson about Mis, the original Irish Wild Woman.
I have to say, I have had many times in my life where I can relate to this poem. Times where the memory of something deep within my bones begins to surface, trying wildly to make itself known. And times where I suppress it, for fear of what others or society may think. So for years I suppressed my wildness, thinking it was "wrong." .
And I have to say, now I sit at a juncture where the wild and the civilized me coexist somewhat more peacefully, but every so often, I feel that fire inside me...a wild fire burning in my soul. A place where personal transformation must take place by decending into the wild unknown.
#joyfulroots #twitter #wildsoul #greenwitch #transformation