You bought to me the
Sacred souvenir of this land.
Your delicate fingers
A ceremonial axe,
An elegant dagger
That sits between my breasts.

Blessed by fire instead of water.

What a mirror you held up to me, sister.

How familiar the path of
Another green-eyed French doe,
Her passion watering her art
As she traveled the world,
In love with
the stones
The land that birthed them
The man who loves them.

I remember that crossroads
Where my own craftsman’s tools
Suddenly slipped from my hands,
And in blind faith I kept walking,
Until I stumbled into
My next incarnation.

The stone you carved called me,
Chose me,
A present and reminder to
The leader in me,
The presence that shares the gifts I am given,
In this ongoing journey of

Water under the bridge,

And as my eyes met yours over the ocean of green storytellers
Your offerings, your life’s work,
Spread out on the coffee table
Just like I used to do,

I give profuse thanks
To the abundance that we are,
Because you followed your path
And I followed mine.

Published by joythunder

ecstatic wildness