I can't contain myself.
I'm about to burst.
The cauldron is stirring,
And if ignored, will bring out my worst.
She's scratching and pawing,
wanting to unleash.
I stuff her, squash her
Be quiet, go away.
I feed her incessant, insatiable appetite.
Trying to appease her with food,
No matter how much, or how often.
Until the untamed is unleashed,
I bristle, rigidly control and contain,
Slowly contracting, retracting until I'm insane.
While the beast is numb and subdued with food,
The cauldron still simmers, darkening my mood.
The pull of the night sky and and dark moon is calling her out.
To delve into shadow through the darkest route.
The ritual of dance, art of surrender and the power to devour....
Are ancient, cyclical and forever here to claim our power.
No longer containing what's there to be risen,
Her voice, her sounds, her rage and sorrows,
Fill the heavens for all women and girls to come forth from their burrows.
To share our collective pulse, our curse, alchemy and power.
We renew ourselves, before being reborn into a beautiful flower.
The space between destruction and creation,
Is our birth of transformation.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment