Insomnia

by em jollie

Something rustles outside
and the dream becomes a buffalo
bearing gifts of food, water, warmth.

You are telling me how
you’ve been unable to sleep and I only think
later, in the midst of my morning: it is odd

to hear you say so in the moment before
waking. Then we are in that field of corn
in Southern Illinois, laughing

at how helicopters are spent looking
for little green plants like the troopers
who soar over Wendell, though we both know

men in fatigues with rifles
are no joke.
There are plenty of things to keep us awake nights

but we have to seek what keeps us alive
during the days —
we have to strum our vision

until the chords come true,
until the rustling outside harmonizes
with our heart beats

and we are welcomed back
into the world that has been waiting
to dream this beauty

with us.

She Lies on the Earth

by Barbara Heile

she lies on the earth
naked
with her ear to the ground
listening.

the sun is on her back
shining.
the moon in its fullness
lies below the surface
reflecting.

imagine,
if you will,
a seed growing fine white roots,
and a sprout begins to grow
up into her ear.

the new enters her body
from below.

she will be woven and dressed
by a filigree of white roots,
winding stems,
leaves,
blossoms and fruits.
her body will be used to nourish what she came to be.

Morning Ceremony

by Autumn Sun Durgavan

I send love in all directions
To the East I send love

And receive a fresh and sacred breath
Of the recycled air from our ancestors
That carries on to the next seven generations
And I infuse all air molecules
With the greatest love of my heart
That may be received again and again
A cycle of love spinning
Like the cosmic dance
Of the earth around the sun
Eastern morning sun
Thank you for awakening me
To this lucid dream of life
I am dreaming
I allow the light to displace
Negative, tired and sick energy within me
So I may glow effortlessly
Thank you for rising positive sun
Hail and Welcome East, Element of Air!
Blessed be.

I send love in all directions
To the South I send love

And receive an eternal candle
Flickering flame honoring
The Spirit in my heart
May this candle light my way to joy
As I arise and meet the day
Weaving my passions
Under a full and forgiving sun
May my heart shine

Continue Reading →

Women’s Power
Is in Our Bone Stories

by ALisa Starkweather

 

I want to write something about power,

women’s power,

innate power,

power that is not power over

or belly up under

but a sacred medicine

a fiercesome rite of passage

a collaborative phenomena

the birthing grounds to our true yes and no.

 

 

Power that when used rightly

has the ability to restore us

and rebirth humanity itself to a new dream

a new world

She is perceived dangerous

The dragon woman’s transformative fire

Throwing flames at outworn old assumptions

She is the freedom that moves effortlessly in her body

Continue Reading →

Changing Woman

by Tracey A. Leigh

I stand upon the brink
Terrified and inert
Change is afoot
And I deny and delay
Through Fear.

I am Fear’s captive
His willing victim
Every time
Sabotaging myself at will.
Submissive to his masterful hand.

Come to me now my warrior soul
The inner me that fights
The Kali within that
Decapitates Fear
And bears his head
In victory.

Death to my tyrants
My inner demons
Death to the saboteur.

Life, love and change for the better
To me the victor.

Are you Awake?

by Trishuwa

“Resistance is Futile.”
I love resistance, all the passion,
my blood boiling or at least simmering.
Not too crazy about the fear part,
the underlying belly of my resistance.

Just so you know,
the spirit of Coyote is with me on this one,
I mean about loving resistance.

Resistance gives life shape, a form to start from.
The passion forges something new, a breakthrough,
although Coyote ignores or just doesn’t take on fear.
Oh Goddess wouldn’t that be great.
An open landscape to be explored, unknown territory,
curiosity the fuel for discovery,
no attachment to the destination,
adventure in each moment.
To travel breathlessly with open mind and heart.
An unknown territory ready to be explored, understood.
Something too howl about.
Something to celebrate, to live.

Well I’d rather be afraid than not go for the next thing,
but sometimes it’s a close call.
“Resistance is futile,” and
being awake, fully engaged, has a price.

I’ve paid some toward that debt, yet I still resist,
and heck, I already had visions.
And yes, I have resisted them.
Ah, I tell you the truth,
outing myself as a woman who was given visions.

Continue Reading →

Always

by Samantha Moore

Evolution demands the shucking of my husk
For what (liberty) have I to incant lofty
  aspirations
from within false glow and click?
Lusty and alive
  golden sunlight on raw plasm
feels foreign yet comforting
like unfamiliar consonant combinations
sounding on my tongue,
  reverberating at the back of my throat —
The Unknown
foggily remembered like an old friend,
  casualty of traumatic disassociation
Brought back again now,
  warmly
Bearing Love

What if you were free to tap into your true creative potential?

by Rachel Sarah Jones, PhD

Imagine being able to access all of the ideas and inspiration swirling around inside of you — all of those thoughts and feelings that are often so fleeting we do not have time to take note of them. So much of our everyday lives are taken up by just trying to keep up with day-to-day tasks that we often do not have time to just sit and listen to our inner creative voice.

This creative voice is speaking to you all the time — all you have to do is listen to it and it will become louder. Taking a few moments to sit quietly each day and tune in to what your creative voice is trying to tell you will enable you to feel more centered and grounded and this will, in turn, start to open up the pipeline for your creative voice to be heard.

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Taking a Sip of Courage

by Nathalie Jackson

For some of you, you may be thinking that I’m talking about a shot of bourbon. As much as I believe that this too serves its purpose, the courage I’m referring to here is the kind that comes from deep down in your belly. The kind of courage required to handle life’s valleys, the really deep dark ones.

I have the pleasure of knowing so many beautiful souls in my life and as a result, engaging in many meaningful heart-to-heart conversations — if you haven’t guessed it yet, I do so love to get really real with people. And what I’m hyper aware of at this time is that real conflicts and real shadows are migrating to the surface of the lives of most of the people I know.

Maybe this is what the Mayans were referring to when they said that the end of the world as we know it would arrive in 2013. I believe that there is such wisdom here. The end of our own inner world as we’ve been experiencing it, is indeed upon us.

Continue Reading →

Usha

by Laurie Gardner

Usha returns
Darkness fades
Birthed from the sky
Glowing announcing Surya’s return.

Always after the darkness
The first light
Gently awakening all life
Letting death sleep.

Announcing the coming light
Awareness after the night
Brighter times ahead
Darkness left behind.
Jai Usha!

Cycles continue to flow, dawn follows darkness and is followed by light both in celestial cycle and in the human soul. It is a natural flow. We are ignorant, then we start to get it, then we see things in their full light. So the cycle goes. The celestial flow is to bring dawn with each day, providing us room to grow – to grow the seed or potential of that day manifesting it

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Bones

by Katherine Brennan

If I pare myself down

whittle myself away

until there are only bones

my sharp and beautiful bones
if I count those bones

daily

in an attitude that recalls prayer

if I worship them

for the flesh they do not carry

 

these bones

my hidden allies, my difference
they sing to me from beneath this heavy flesh

 

if I break this bread

into one hundred bites

and eat only half of those

Continue Reading →

The Very Fabric of Her Being

by JoAnne Dodgson

As the sunset painted the clouds purple and red, a spider crawled out from the shadows and began to weave a web. I stepped toward her to get a closer look, cautiously keeping my distance. The spider’s close proximity evoked old habitual fears, those lingering effects of the rampant propaganda about the dangerous nature of all things creepy-crawly.

The spider looked otherworldly with her sleek round brown body held up by eight highly arched striped legs. She was a skilled acrobat, moving about with great agility. Intrigued, I spent much of the evening watching her.

The spider initiated her weaving by free-falling from the porch rafters suspended upside down and swinging side-to-side, gliding along a shimmering thread. She came to land on the very tip of a blade of grass far below the wooden beams. There she attached a grounding cord, anchoring her web to the earth.

She crawled back up the thread, expanding the intricate framework as she stretched fibers out in all directions like the rays of the sun. Returning to the center, she circled around, steadily moving further outward, making a spiral.

This artful weaver wove her web with fibers generated inside her. She weaved with the very fabric of her being, knitting threads together, forming patterns, building structures, joining diverse angles, shapes and lines into an integrated whole. Guided by ancient blueprints she carried within, the spider’s focus was unwavering as she weaved.

Continue Reading →

The Goddess Within

by Helene Rose

miracle-maker
magic-maker
this woman thrives
this woman jives
to the beat of her own drum.
pleasure maker
treasure maker
this woman sizzles
this woman drizzles
dancing her joy
for you for me for we
are blessed to receive
her bold heart-beat
her sweet dancing joy
her ecstatic sweet sweat
drips through her fingertips
healing all life
transforming the way
we choose to be
here
in this moment
living so brilliant!
gratitude to the goddess
within.

Blessing In the Myst of Brokenness From Your
Earth Mother

by Gwendolyn Pincomb

You are whole in the heart of the Universe.

All of your parts are sacred to me.

They all have a place
Where they are needed
Even in their brokenness.

So. Now.

Bring to me — all of your brokenness.
Bring to me your tears.
Bring to me what
  you fear or dread.
Bring to me every piece of yourself
  that you have ever rejected.

Together, we will weave you whole.

Not perfect — which I never intended.
I dreamed you so much more than that.
For I dreamed you — WHOLE.

Again.
And again!

Continue Reading →

Sitting with Grief

by em jollie

Safety is the doorway through which Grief was able to enter my house. Now she sits, a wise old woman reclining in the worn wooden chair across from me. I watch as she patiently mends a story written in the language of thin threads and tiny glass beads. Although her hair and face are gray, the work she lays across the kitchen table in front of me is multicolored. An hour ago, on this same table, I slammed my hand down on top of the beadwork books Bill brought for me and raged: My grandmother should’ve been able to teach me how to do this work. But the anger was only defense, glitzy clothing for the body of my sorrow. I shook my head and quietly repeated: My grandmother should’ve been able to teach me these skills, this language. Trace caught my eye and broke the silence: she is teaching you. Now, Trace and Bill have gone, leaving only the ghosts of my grandmothers and Grief to keep me company. Once, Grief followed me, lingering like a spurned lover, but now I make her welcome. Safety is the doorway through which she entered. In turn, after I have sat with her through enough breath and tears, she shows me the design she has been quietly weaving this whole time in Yellow, Red, Black, White and Turquoise. The whisper of my fingers brushing over the beaded surface sounds like my grandmother’s laughter, and the pattern looks like a map to the room called Joy. As I glance up to ask what it means, Grief opens the gate and invites me to find my own dancing way into it.

Garden of Women

by Alisa Muñiz Blanchard

Women come together
cultivating a garden
of love
Using rocks of fear
To build a wall
Separating what was
From what will be
To what is
Hands up, palms will touch
The sky
We are not
savage witches
Waiting to be burned
In your fearfulness
But rather the flowers
Which bloom sweetness
And grow honey
Abundance quieted,
We stir
Disrobing our discreet influence
Shifting into seen leaders
Unyielding at the helm
Reclaiming tomorrow
By awakening today
Crimson wombs
Turn warrior scarlet
Pulling energy chords
Shifting this dimension
Of our reality
Back to center

Wild Women Review

Interview

by Sally Deskins & Laura Madeline Wiseman

Laura Madeline Wiseman: In the current issue of Poets & Writers, Jan/Feb 2014, Elizabeth Kostova writes in “No Ideas but in Things: The Importance of First Objects” that, “Objects make the world real to us, and they make literature real to readers, even if the objects involved have never existed. Trying to describe an object — real or invented — is a terrific exercise for any writer, it brings us back to the ability of language to convey something concrete, which is just short of magic, when you think hard enough about it,” (48-49). Intimates and Fools is a look at the object of the bra through poetry, illustrations, and body art. Meditating and writing about the bra was a terrific experience for me, especially in reference to the play and magic of language that Kostova talks about here, but I’m curious about what that experience was like for you as the artist. How do objects inspire you to make your body prints

Continue Reading →

Are You Ready to be Seen?

by Mel Shapcott

For the better part of the last decade I clung to the shadows and operated behind the scenes. After graduating from college I fled the city and moved away, far out into one of the most remote regions of the US. This made it easy to hide.

Of course I didn’t notice I was hiding at first.

I had plenty to keep me busy: lengthy conversations with plants, spirited dialogue with the stones and duets with the wind.

Because I had no other place to store it, I put my artwork under the bed. Years went by. I sunk deeper and deeper into myself, entrained in an internal discourse.

Finally, I realized by not being seen I was beginning to lose track of who I was. You may be familiar with the concept that the people in your life are your mirror. What I discovered is that if you are not showing up to look in that mirror — then you can’t see yourself. I gained the profound perspective that I could not be myself in a vacuum.

Continue Reading →

Please Come In

by Megan Hollingsworth

you are welcome here
as you are
beautiful
it is hard to gaze softly
enough to see oneself
clearly, allow me to see you
so you can see me
then together we shall see
we are welcome here
plain
as we are beautiful

Morning

by Vanessa Codorniu

Pulling on the clothes of mourning. I knew this moment would arrive. Without a carriage or fanfare but indeed, arrive it would.

Unannounced yet prepared I seem. My dress has waited for this day silently. Not wanting to warn me, yet much aware.

I am mourning the sweet promise of your blossoming and the generosity of your veiled friendship. A veil even you yourself do not see or recognize.

Today I mourn that there is something that stands between us. Impenetrable and non-moving even with the gentlest of love offerings.

Mourning, awakened by your ego, unable to see its way out of its “rightness”, unable to truly apologize from the heart…this leaves us at an impasse.

A half made bed, for half-made sleep. A half-made journey.

What is it within you that must always be right?

What pains you so greatly that you must, at all costs super-impose your reality on every frame? Every picture?

Continue Reading →

Vertigo

by Samantha Moore

Asleep with garnet in my navel
and rosemary oil on the souls of my feet
I dream safely, if not soundly

Suffering an unslakable thirst
to be washed over
Clear, cold, rushing –
Lungs expressed
Flesh, goosey
humming
and New

Asleep again, with garnet in my navel
I am bathing dreams, From
and Into

Winter Retreat for the Uncommon Common (Wo)Man

by Samantha Bryan

Ah, winter in New England. The wheel has turned and apropos to the ruling sign of Capricorn we are becoming fully initiated into old man winter. Personally, I grew tired of this annual hazing years ago as a wee one growing up in rural Maine. When I was finally welcomed into the relative freedom of adulthood, I decided that January would no longer have such luck as to lock me in its frozen prison of seasonal depression and dreaded morning commutes ever again. Beginning in my early 20s, every January I would leave wherever I was living and head south for a month. The past two years I was fortunate enough to travel to Central America, where I split my time between spiritual pursuits and volunteering in community aid programs.

These adventures have opened my heart and mind, and pushed me further on my path than I ever could have imagined otherwise.

There is a theory held by some that we all ultimately get where we are supposed to go anyway, despite which route we take first. But I am still endlessly grateful for the catalyst effects of these travel experiences. The downside of these experiences, however, was that I maintained the idea that in order to achieve healing and some form of spiritual growth and enlightenment, I needed to put myself in a little bubble and cast away my primarily lived world.

Continue Reading →

In Search of Brahman

by Laurie Gardner

Brahman
What is
What is not
Complete, whole
Nothing, Everything
Unchanging, Ever Unfolding.

Often unknown
Yet completely knowable
Mysterious
All yet Not A Thing
Nothing
Manifested, Yet Unmanifested.

Mind, Matter, Spirit, Me
You, Him, Her, the tree or bee
Or not
Form, thought, spirit
All-pervasive, Non-invasive.

All is you
You are all

Continue Reading →

Path of the Wild Heart

by Kristin Bareheart Brockett

This is a call to your heart and your deep primal wild self who knows that you have waited too long to feel fully Alive, to express who you really are, to love yourself fully, to allow your hearts wild passion to liberate you, to be free. This is a call to remember your depth, your wisdom, your power and live your hearts wide open truth.

We are living in a world that needs you NOW to honor and love yourself, to not hold back the gifts and passion of your heart and soul. You are a leader, a healer, a truth teller, a trailblazer, a record keeper, a guardian of the seed, a protector, a co-creator of planetary harmony and much more not yet dreamed into being.

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Emily’s Rain Dance

by JoAnne Dodgson

Many beautiful gifts come along in such seemingly simple, ordinary moments. And it’s often the youngest among us who have something extraordinary to share. During a holiday gathering with my family, we were gathered outside on the porch one evening when it unexpectedly began to rain. Instantly, all the adults backed up against the walls of the house, seeking shelter beneath the roof.

My four-year-old niece, however, had other ideas. Without a moment’s hesitation, Emily spread her arms wide-open and lifted her face toward the sky. Smiling and laughing, she skipped barefoot around the porch, singing and shouting with glee. “It’s raining! It’s raining! It’s raining!”

Continue Reading →

Inner

by Alisa Muñiz Blanchard

Who is she,
 That bangs on your door
 Insistence of rapping
 Rattling
 The call echoing in the rafters
 You know
 And the running away from her
 Only brings you closer
 To the deafening cackle
 Of her raging heart
 Eye to eye one must surrender
 Amidst the mystery to the
 Hazy mystery of where she leads you
 Her stare is cold like spring rivers
 Her breath foggy like summer nights
 Her voice decays like autumn leaves
 Her skin is rough like the winter snow
 And still you must follow her
 Deep into the borrows
 Beyond the crust of the earth
 To the quickening of life
 In the molten core
 For there is no denying the call

Continue Reading →

Boundless Woman

by Vanessa Codorniu

Beckoned to soar passed stars
as night lowers her silky indigo skirt
I spring forward without care
my heart as always
dares.

Awakened to flakes of desiccated star dust
surrounding me,
a crackling and faded corset
that no longer adorns
my earthly flesh.

Disappointed
I turn away
only to sway and sway
and sway…

Embodied freely
I am the night

Continue Reading →

Pectus Carinatum (Pigeon Chest)

by Michelle Price

To the woman who loves flesh
Bones are essential
Whether woven or lameller
Bones above all else
Hold the deepest of secrets
Revealing age and ancestry
Pathology and plight
Or whatever it is we as humans
Fail to disclose in our waking hours
With words and wrinkles

Protrusion, overgrowth, deformity
So many names for the way your sternum
Grew wild and brambly
Perhaps meaning only to protect
The droplets of blood
That ran through your weary heart
And your bones being wise
Must have anticipated the coming of loss
Thus building a fortress
For the emperor of all your organs

Continue Reading →

Manifesto

by Samantha Moore

It is unlike me to transmit so brazenly
Or is it?
Who’s to say what primal forces have been released
within my cells
Rebirthing me
Into something at once
Gentle and Powerful
Of Love and Light
Of dirt and grit
With space to breathe
And gifts to bring
?

Why not?

Southern State

by Rand Hall

oh my beloved south
where the hair pin turns
are tighter than my ass
as the side of the road opens
to a sheer mountain drop
bald knob, white face, cedar mountain
devils kitchen
where 15 MPH means it
roads wrapped in foliage
open suddenly to reveal
a horizon of mountain crests
stretching up from the earth
like a sleeping woman’s curves
and even at mid-day
the mist snuggles deep in her valleys

i went out west
to new mexico’s orange and blue
but shrunk in that land infertile
without “life support”
god forsaken . . . i ached
to come home to the south
green and alive.
forest so dense
it tries to eat the road

Continue Reading →

I Know We Didn’t Break It

by Kim Zunner

I know we didn’t break it.
It was given to us this way,
So we grow up thinking
this is the way it’s supposed to be.
But at some point we realize it doesn’t feel right.

The cogs don’t move as smoothly as they could.
The grinding of this reality against our soul
starts to take its toll,
And the only way to save our self
is to fix this broken machine.
But we don’t know what it looked like
when it worked properly,
It’s been so long.
All we have are bits and pieces of ancient manuals
That correspond to a different model.
Maybe it’s time for a new design…

I know we didn’t break it,
But if we don’t fix it, what are we leaving
for our sons and daughters?
We’re passing on the stone that grinds us down
Until we forget that at one point, we could fly…

And every moment we are reborn with the chance
to remember our wings.
Every moment we are given the opportunity

Continue Reading →

Embodying Beauty

by JoAnne Dodgson

How is it we’ve come to believe that there are some people who are beautiful and others who are not? Does it really make sense that measuring tapes, bathroom scales, clothing sizes, and calorie-counts hold the power to determine whether or not we’re worthy of love? What drives us to spend countless hours and dollars to recolor, reshape and resize our bodies, over and over again? Why has the beauty of who we are become so difficult to see?

The mother earth has something to say about beauty that’s free of judgment and unburdened by fears. Elephants don’t worry about the shape of their bodies. Dragonflies aren’t distressed by the size of their wings. Aspen trees don’t attempt to look more like the pines. Vultures aren’t hiding behind pretenses, pretending to be something other than who they are and doing what it is that they do. The mother earth reveals beauty that’s filled with integrity, that honors the rich diversity in the remarkable web of life.

Beauty sings out from the sunsets and echoes in the wind and rains down from the moon and dances in the sea and whispers on wings and howls with coyotes and weaves webs with the spiders and lingers in the scent of the sage.


Continue Reading →

Inevitable Change,
Inevitable Intimacy

by Barbara Heile

I woke up this morning and knew, “I am going to write about my time in the cabin.”

I trust I will meet all manner of critics on my way to the end of this assignment.

This is what I have to do next.

Easel painting has not been calling me the same way it used to. For over forty years it was my way to express love, to be in love.

I was painting a sycamore from my window, last week, from life. It felt like we were letting go of one another, painting and me. I was saying thank you for how it has held me so long, it has given me a way to be. It may not be enough, I am growing.

I didn’t want to grow like this, out of the familiar way of being myself.

Continue Reading →

Heart Warrior

by Alisa Muñiz Blanchard

At the cross roads
I pause long enough
to hear the voice deep
in the depths of purpose

When all my senses
burn like fire
I listen and take hold
of the inner course
coursing through me

I choose a path of yes,
agreeing to keep myself safe
by knowing with clarity
boundaries and
saying no if I must

Below the tip of my tongue
I gird my sword
where it will rest
napping tenderly

The heart will cut through
shadow and doubt

Continue Reading →

Remembering Myself

by Trishuwa

There is a time when the clock of the universe stands still.

All is moving in a timeless manner, as it always has been.

I walked into that time.

I was four. I didn’t know about risk or caution. I just knew I was more afraid in the night. The unspoken fear, the karmic darkness of my family, swirled in the thick shadows of our house. I knew it was real. I lay awake while the rest of the family slept doing my best to keep the darkness from entering me. With each outward breath I blew into the darkness to keep it at bay. Then without hesitation I moved, climbing onto the windowsill. The window was open. Hiking my night gown up around my waist I twisted my body around. My tummy teetered on the broad adobe windowsill, toes reaching for the ground, finally dropping the last few inches and gently landing on comforting earth.

The light of the full moon and star filled sky covered the earth. I ran through the garden, down its middle. My feet knew the soft path. My destination was the south end where the cultivated and wild tangled together untended by human hand. It was my favorite place. I had a spiritual meeting, a rendezvous with a soul memory from many lifetimes

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What is an Urban Priestess?

by Vanessa Codorniu

“A woman in harmony with her spirit is like a river flowing. She goes where she will without pretense and arrives at her destination prepared to be herself and only herself.” ~ Maya Angelou

When I first read Maya Angelou’s quote above, my body and soul let out a deep sigh…

I was in my early twenties and I was seeking to just be my most brilliant self, a spark of the Divine as expressed in my female body. I wanted to use my talents to serve others and was unsure where to begin. This quote didn’t tell me how, but it sure exemplified how it might be to show up and shine…

“… ahhh to be in harmony with my spirit.”

At 19, I wrote a letter to the Universe and asked that I be a channel for inspiration, creativity, love and healing. I soon discovered…

Once you raise your hand in God’s classroom, You’re IN!

Volunteering or rather acknowledging my calling threw me into what I call “the trenches.” Learning about being spiritual by facing fears and growing into adulthood with a purpose I actually had no idea how to attain. My intense training began.

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Casting Call

by Samantha Bryan

About a year ago, my boyfriend of the time hired me on to do some marketing temp work at a design company he worked for. We’ll call him Boyfriendboss for relative anonymity and story relevance. If it weren’t for the fact that we were fooling around in the back room on my lunch break, or really anytime I decided I had “made a mistake and needed to be disciplined,” — I might have jumped out of the 4th floor window out of desperation to escape the boredom. No computer, no phone, only occasional music, isolation from the rest of the employees, just gluing 1 inch tiles to cardboard folders for 8 hours a day, I turned my inner focus to philosophy. I contemplated various unsolved questions about religion, art, the universe, the meaning of life, etc. Y’know, stuff you do when you turn 21 and know everything, buy a knitted hoodie and jump in a van with your friends to mexico, giving out shitty tarot readings for cigarette money. Only I was 26 and still cocky, marching into Boyfriendboss’s office to inform him about the way things are, only to have him toss another question that would completely derail my sophomoric theory, and send me on my way to start over. This was all fun and games, until one day during a fight when he threw a whammy of a question at me:

Who are you?

Continue Reading →

Seedling

by Sarah Morgan Haydock

Ripe,
I let the wind take me.
Falling away, I am carried over fields,
Over roads and rivers.
I sing freedom, dancing without effort on this airstream,
Dancing with the dragonflies and the falling leaves.

Falling gently, I find Earth again,
The leaves cover me, one after another.
The blazing sun becomes mottled… a faint shimmer, and then… no more.

I lay Dormant, as life stirs around me.
I am wrapped, cushioned, sheltered.
The moons wax and wane.
The seasons pass in darkness.

Enveloped, I feel the rhythms of Earth –
the pulse –
the great mother drumbeat of life spreads through me
as I rest, quiescent.

Dormant …

I stir.

Water enters my body,
flooding me with cool sensation.
It is time!

A thread, emerging,
reaching out with Newborn fingers,
Pale as the Moon in this Darkness.

I part from my cocoon

Continue Reading →

In the Womb of Our Mother

by Rand Silverbear Hall

First is the sacred fire. In the cleaned fire pit the Fire-keeper lays a bed of logs. The first layer of logs, about 3 inches apart is laid east to west, the next layer, north to south creating a bed about 8 inches high and 3 feet square. Next the stones or Grandfathers are selected and piled on the bed. Prayers and tobacco are added. Then a teepee of wood is built around the Grandfathers so that none may peek out. Finally newspaper, twigs and tinder are tucked into every nook and cranny. Then Fire-keeper lights the fire on four sides — the four directions.

I had never been to a Sweat Lodge or or any Native American ceremony. But when I met Grandmother June and she invited me “to come to a healing sweat” the next Saturday, I did not hesitate to accept

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She Stands

by Joanne Elliott

Streaks of light through cloud
wrap ‘round her curved form
as she stands arms entwined
with others. A living fence of flesh
seems fragile, ready to give
way to force and yet
they still stand.

She stands waiting not willing
any longer to wait for what is hers
for what is theirs.
One half of the race denied.
No more!

She stands so the woman
next to her can have a choice
can have a voice. She stands
so her daughter can scale
the walls, can dissolve
ceilings of glass. She stands
so her granddaughter can demand
what is hers and be heard.

She stands and her feet grow roots
reach through concrete
push down into dark, moist earth.
Her roots deep
now become entwined with others.

Sturdy now, she reaches
out and up towards sky
towards a new day when
light breaks through gray
through barriers
through time and everything
becomes as earth in spring.

Medicine of Osha:
Living Wild and Free

by JoAnne Dodgson

Osha grows high up in the mountains near my home in New Mexico. Osha has long been an herbal remedy for the peoples living here, bringing relief from colds, flus, and infections. Osha is also fondly called Bear Root, so named for the bears’ special affinity for this plant. Bears have been seen eating Osha when coming out of hibernation to cleanse their digestive systems in preparation for springtime feasts. Bears are also known to chew on the root and rub the mashed plant and juices onto their fur. Bears are great teachers for us two-leggeds about the medicinal properties of this mountain plant.

The spirit of Osha has taught me about her wild essence and how she goes about living her life. This plant so beloved by the bears simply does not appreciate being taken from her natural habitat. She isn’t easily domesticated. She doesn’t grow well in farms, gardens, or pots on a shelf.

Osha holds her ground with unwavering commitment to her truths.

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Rising

by Alisa Blanchard

My voice cannot be held silent

When it flows through my heart

Arriving at the ready

Claiming, naming
For too many years held back,
For too many years shamed
For too many years believing blame
Clear and ready
Slicing through the chains
Of a thousand generations
I meet its destination
Truth is told in my grounded fierceness.

Awaken from slumber
daughters of the earth!

by Hazel Loveridge

Awaken from slumber
Daughters of the earth!
Total consciousness overhaul,
New reality create,
New language speak,
Into full potential explode,
Hugeness conceive,
Illuminated be,
And Goddess self inhabit.
Believe this, feel, breathe, know and be this!

Awakening the
Priestess Archetype

by Vanessa Codorniu

Women are collectively, individually and across the world waking up to their own spiritual power. They may come from all walks of life, from many spiritual and professional paths but they share the common desire to express their inner world, their soul’s purpose and most of all, to serve their communities.

Many modern women, if not all women called to be guides for healing, empowerment, leadership and personal development have a strong PRIESTESS archetype.

They are connecting to a force and power within and not to a power vested only through marriage, by culture, academia or traditional institutions.

Women are listening to their inner voice, to their inner desire more than ever before. Women today are courageously taking what has often been: the road less traveled. They are seeking answers within and with supportive sisterhoods.

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Song of the Heart

by JoAnne Dodgson

In the deep dark night in the rainforest, tiny rainbow-colored frogs climb up into the branches of the trees. Waves of intricate rhythms and sounds come alive as the Tree Frogs begin to sing. Peeps and creeks and melodies dance on the air, wafting through the trees, lighting up the night. With playful aliveness. Connection. Creativity. Joy.

Pure Joy.

Tree Frogs sing from their hearts naturally. It’s who they are. It’s essential. It’s what they’ve come here to do.

When Tree Frogs sing, they fill the rainforest with their colorful voices. With the very breath of life.

And the Trees breath this in. Receiving. Soaking up the sharing.

And the Trees breath out. Sending oceanic waves rippling beyond the rainforest. A joy-filled ever-flowing Giving. Of the very breath of life. Which nourishes countless beings, so incredibly diverse, all around our planet.

So when Tree Frogs sing, they feed the rainforest. And the breath of the rainforest feeds the mother earth. And when the earth and her beings are abundantly nourished, there is harmony and happiness. Boundless giving and receiving. The birthing of balance. Exuberant, radiant, interwoven Balance. This is the dance of Creation. The Love of Life.

All set into motion by little rainbow-colored frogs.

But that’s not why Tree Frogs climb up into the branches and fill the rainforest nights with song

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Rising Beyond Martyrdom’s Fire

by Rivera Sun

In my dream, Joan of Arc’s fire burns in my eyes – both her pyre and her impassioned life flame. As a young twenty-first century woman, I romanticized the martyr and emulated her, pitching the un-tempered strength of my youth into battle with the corporate-political rulers of my time. Joan had her sword; I had my pen. Joan had her court; I had the stage. Joan put armor on her limbs. I put theatrical costumes on as I rode into battle.

Such folly! Such hot-tempered arrogance of my youth. I was tilting at windmills and bragging about it afterwards. Bravado and self-sabotage rode upon my shoulders. I set my sights on going down in history as a bright burst of martyred flame. Time and circumstance saved me. I survived my twenties without fame or early death – though the latter brushed closely enough to rattle my romanticized

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We Opened Our Hearts

by Trishuwa

I opened my heart wide.
It was an experiment.
After all I would be leaving soon.
What could two or three days hurt.

I liked it.
It was new and as ancient
as all the ancestors
that live inside me,
inside all of us.

I’m talking to them, the old ones.
I couldn’t stay this
heart wide open
without them.

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Earth Communion

by Sarah Morgan Haydock

Interconnection, relationship, sacred sharing.

Communion is the essence of being. Each breath we take, each movement we make, each sensation we experience – it is all communion. There is a vast and intricate web of interconnection – this we call life. To gaze at the stars – this is communion. To lay with a lover – this is communion. To speak, to cry, to dance, to shout, it is all communion. When life touches life – this is communion.

Awareness of communion with the earth, for me, is bliss. Pure life, a flowing, rushing power, like a waterfall, cascading through me, energizing the web of my being.

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Remnants

by Megan Hollingsworth

death some fret you are near
though you are here come and gone
leaving remnants of a soul wanting

the hollow one dares not rise in your shadow
so sick is grief
of a thousand lives lived dying
with nothing but disease to unfurl

death you are there
always at the gate of birth

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Memory

by Alisa Blanchard

I swear I know her
  That wild ravenous woman
  Who creeps in the shadows of the woods
  And dances to the beat of the moon
  Like mud on my toes or stars in my eyes
  She speaks in a feral language
  Beyond our history
  Yet recollected as though
  Spoken fluently since birth
  Blood paints her thighs
  Belly, hair and hands

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Dance Therapy:
Rated M for Mature

by Samantha Bryan

Whenever I have to check off my native language on a form, I always shrug my shoulders and say “English”. I always wish there was another option though, because honestly, it’s not my strongest method of communication. I believe I speak most fluently in dance. It is far more than just an aerobic activity; it tells stories, portrays emotion and serves as prayer. It inspires and cleanses, and comes in so many sizes, styles and accents. It is wanting and connection; an outward expression of desires and the inner divine.

When asked to contribute a piece to Wild Woman Rising, I had the option of submitting either a dance or written piece. I chose written, but wanted to find some way to merge the two. While rehearsing for an upcoming show called “The Slutcracker”, I whined and moaned to my friend that I just couldn’t decide where to even begin. She looked around and simply said…

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Ancient Inhalation Invocation

by Christy Evers

Thrive ancient DNA,
Sacred.
Depths of consciousness
Signal an uncovering of truth.
Rhythm of humanity at the whole,
Rhythms internal echo rhythms external.
Cells signal a beat:
Electric intrinsic
Cyclical
Lunar.
In the womb lay the mystical,
Replicating possibilities,
Best of our ancestry,
Anciently.
Honor it sacredly.

With all our breaths send a blessing of unity.
Inhale air inhaled by honored women of past, present, and those yet to come.
Inhale the air of dear brothers, lovers, and fathers.
Inhale air of the wounded.
Inhale breath of the healed.
Inhale for your heartbeat and the ones yet to be.
Inhale the cycle.
Inhale recognized truth.

Signal new rhythms,
Cyclical.
Inhale the shed of steel modernity.
Inhale unity with ancient truths.
Inhale deep cross-cultural wealth.

Inhale your self,
Mirrored in billions of others,
Rhythms reflected in deep oxygenated waves of memory,
Cells in harmony,
Order restored to thrive.

Bless!