Alone at last. There’s still salt on my cheeks sand in my hair Wind in my ears. Hours roll by behind plane windows. A rainbow spreads across the clouds and the moon rises, Full and silver on a blood red sky. My body still remembers the goosebumps Every time a voice speaks in the circle. … More Ista love poem
I’ve spent hours walking rose quartz paths barefoot. Meditating on the bridge where walking with naked feet and keeping an open heart meet. Both demand close attention to the environment. If the mind wanders, I cut my skin, bump fragile bones. With every step The stones press their jagged edges into my flesh. Nerve endings … More Barefoot
I had a dream a few weeks ago. Someone said to me : “Hey, there are queens all around you!”. I woke up and pulled a card : the Queen of Cups. This week they’ve been relentless : every time my fingers would reach for my deck, one would be there, waiting for me. So … More what does a queen look like?
This is some full-moon love from a few days, a few decades ago. I’m living micro-seasons. Super-accelerated cycles. Two months of winter, for slow silence and music. Tears, goodbyes and a funeral celebration. Then I hopped the globe, and bubbled and simmered for two months of summer. The sun warmed my naked skin while my … More Accelerate
Lichen – the sacred union between an algae and a mushroom, thriving together in a way they could not achieve alone. yesterday, i took part in a woman’s circle. last week, i took part in a co-created gathering. two weeks ago, we had a party for my dad’s funeral. with every opportunity to immerse myself … More Lichen
Among its other faces, I’ve noticed death puts mischief on my mind. Laura, mad and I could smell it off each other when we walked to the underworld together. Fingers itching for trouble and nothing to lose. “Shall we… burn a barn?” Luckily we were isolated, and kept too busy to steal some car keys … More “Shall we burn a barn?”
Lately I’ve been spending a lot of time in the transition grounds. Tonight the night was the darkest – then no darker. My father’s body lies in ice, waiting for the fire, then the sea. I watch my mother sleep at last, and slowly pick up the threads I’ve let fall to my feet. … More Solstice. Standing on the brink.