The Earth warms. My feet are bare. My toes grip the cool soil. The Trees are singing. A soft chant, easily missed. Clouds gather, the day cools. In us all, a rising beat. A thrust of hands to sky, to Earth.
My studio is nearly ready for me to move in. Dragons and Goddesses, flower Queens and Mystery Ineffable all shuffle in my head, stirring up dust, their bare feet pressing into the soil of me. Circling a chant. My ancient mothers are remembering me. They call to me through the veil of time. I hear their strong voices.
I’ve been waiting. So have they. The power of their Presence. I feel it building. They live in me. In all of us, everywhere. I feel a wild sap rising. The Earth warms. I begin to dance awake.
My heart laughs with gratitude. This is life. Yours, mine, all sacred. Oh the Man doesn’t want you to know it. Oh he really don’t want you to live it. To be wild with the sap of you Mother rising. Yet her time nears. Her labor approaches. She will birth Herself. We will birth Her. From the empty mouth, the black of the womb, arises our Mother, bathed in the milk of stars.