She has a thousand faces.
She is virgin, mother and crone.
She is creator, preserver and destroyer.
She gives birth, endlessly.
Her womb is the gateway of death and rebirth.
She is Queen of Earth and Heaven.
She fell through a hole in her world
and danced our world into being on turtle’s back.
She hid the sunlight from the world
when she was abused by men
and could only be lured back
when shown her radiant face in a mirror.
She is lover, warrior and shaman.
She is the one who repairs the broken soul.
She raises the god in man with her breath.
She is virgin, mother and crone.
She is creator, preserver and destroyer.
She gives birth, endlessly.
Her womb is the gateway of death and rebirth.
She is Queen of Earth and Heaven.
She fell through a hole in her world
and danced our world into being on turtle’s back.
She hid the sunlight from the world
when she was abused by men
and could only be lured back
when shown her radiant face in a mirror.
She is lover, warrior and shaman.
She is the one who repairs the broken soul.
She raises the god in man with her breath.
Men tried to confine her to limited roles,
to force her into wedlock with despotic gods.
Then the Church sought to bury her.
But the Goddess returned as Mary,
and now she is loose again,
asking us to honor and embody her
in the forms that please her.
I am only a man, but I serve the Goddess.
When I was still a virgin, she claimed me
in one of her most fearsome forms,
and I carry her mark in a secret place.
I have been taught by ancient priestesses
in a mountain temple in the sky
in a mandorla of amber light
in worlds that open through an oak door
and a bee hive and a sea mist.
I have met the Goddess in molten lava,
as Spider Woman and Reindeer Queen
and as Great Mother Bear.
Bees flew me to a place of her mysteries.
I feel her hair stream in the sea waves.
I love her in the deep loamy earth.
I see her robe swirl in the shifting stars.
Drawing by RM
4 comments:
I witness.
This motivates me to write about my journey of Goddess. This weekend I will comb my journals. For now I can start with a dream about helping an old boy friend retrieve Mary out of the water. I was under a highway bridge and there were other statues in the water. A dreamer by the name of Roger rolled in on his way to somewhere else. He had a doy and a dog safely tucked in his roll, on his belly. On my way to getting Marry's statue out of the water, L place a broken baby Jesus on a gem stone pile where women stood. The next morning I play a bibliomancy game and land a lovely article on the new, much awaited, Sainted Mary Magdalen, apostle to the apostles.
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