Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Her walkabout


And so she was smudged out
Embarked on her equivalent of the walkabout
Went to a spot in the big open space
Let things unfold at their own pace

Spent most of the time under the tree
Just letting herself, just be
And gently little ceremonies came
From celebrations to dealing with shame

The cacti called from its quivering tops to entangled roots
It spoke of love – its numerous spikes and abundant fruits
She recalled great partnerships that she knew
And explored her anima and animus anew

Then she burnt a photo of him, hoped as the one
Honoured her body and its setting sun
Walked naked under the wide blue sky
Talked to all, the ravens, tarantula, even the fly

Accepted her loved ones whole heartedly
Rolled on love’s threshing floor madly
The wise tree sculptures made their call
The rock said, shame keeps you small

She destroyed the cowpat of doubt
Kicked it, kicked it, kicked it about
The stone of regret was also let go
Fears subdued on night walks in a starry glow

She sent blessings to family, friends and fasters
And danced with her woman shadow masters
She pulled on the rope which held her back
And questioned, what really did she lack?

The cacti again made her smile
And she took a walk down an aisle
The ceremony was an act of self love
Witnessed from mother earth and the moon above

In the purpose circle that long last night
She saw perhaps her gifts offer light
Could that really be true she wondered?
Back to the embrace of all she wandered.













Poem: © Penelope Mavor 2014
Image: own

No comments: