Wild Woman

Written in homage to Clarissa Pinkola-Estes’ Women Who Run with the Wolves

Covered, uncovered
Unearthly pigments staining her limbs
Tall, lithe, long 
Nimble fingers of flame

In nature, in the firewood 
In the herbs
In the speak of the animals
She wanders amid roots and the soil
Luxuriates in a deep waterbath under the kiss of flowers

She is the healer of time 
Conductor of seasons of change, now
Screaming, keening, grieving,
Tearing, shredding, ripping at the loss 
Bringing to a close
The gap of this cycle as it turns

Praying, crouching low into the smoke
Speaking into the wind and rain the blessing that 
Calls in the spirits who fill her hair and breathe her skin

They listen like a whisper
They speak like a void
Guiding the steps birthing the next cycle 
To heal, to cleanse, to raise, to begin again

New life visible through the quickness of her hands
That tend the seeds burrowing into the dark 
Below her feet as they 
Dance over the earth
Beating out her song

Celebrating ecstasy of breathing this air today
Willing new life to rise
Like the fullness of the moon into the million eyes of eternity
She sings

Touches tips where new leaves
Like tiny tongues begin their speak  
With the adoring eyes of a mother nursing her young
In praise
She spreads her joy wide for the preciousness of Her own Self,
Creator of all things