Earth Woman

Morangos

Pirilampos

Sister Goddess in flames

My beginning is my end is my beginning . . .

I am a woman born of Earth.

I paint pictures in dark red clay

redrawing the lines of my figure

the only way I know how.

I dance in fields of wildflowers

feast on strawberries kissed by wine

in the shade of a wise tree;

my roots go down.

I am a daughter of the cosmos,

made up of stardust.

I connect the dots in starry skies,

learn to fly in dreams, asleep and waking,

bravely map out liminal spaces.

I am cousin to God’s smallest creatures.

I speak to animals in make believe languages

chase fireflies through forests untrodden;

a dotted line, black against the page,

traces their path across the landscape.

I am a sister of the Goddess.

I sing my strength in songs remembered,

digging up stories yet untold,

her memory shining in passion's flames.

I am a woman born of Earth.

My beginning is my end is my beginning . . .

Stardust in da Root Chakra

Made of stardust

we ride waves of manifestation

down to the cool depths of Earth,

shimmering pieces of our shining bodies

strewn across the universe,

infinite mirrors,

glowing reminders 

of our miraculous being.

We remember our roots

thick, sturdy and purposeful,

as we lift one vertebrae off the ground

and then another.

We nourish our inquisitive minds,

feed our ever expanding curiosity 

in an endless quest for knowledge. 

We find solid ground again.

Coming home to Mother, 

returning to decipher our heart's truth,

translating a language of pure love

into words our rational mind 

can almost comprehend.

Looking down to our feet

we tune in to the resonant frequency

vibrating within the Earth and our bodies,

stretching through awkward growing pains

a sign we're doing something right.

Red Cowboy Boots

Guardian of the Veil - Martina Hoffmann

This could be 

the most joyous day 

of my life,

if I let it be.

I stare into my own eyes, 

unafraid of the beauty 

reflected back. 

Joy in the mundane,

who knew lip gloss 

and red cowboy boots

could bring so much delight,

strolling through town

soft sun shining,

modest wind on my cheek.

Joy in nourishment,

sundays in the kitchen,

fermentation experiments

food alchemy fork by fork.

Joy in mystery,

in my mysterious head

every word has three meanings

every sentence unravels humanity

& paragraphs unlock chakras.

Joy in slow motion,

I lay on my back

slowly rolling over each vertebrae, 

gently, one at a time.

I feel so present,

so alive -

so close to the Earth 

i can smell her,

wet dirt and sweet geranium.