Monday, June 7, 2010

Mediocrity. I can't stand it. I cannot settle.

Does the outside world even matter? It seems like an illusion. The state of affairs not even real, all depending on the state of my mind at the point of interface.

I'm building a grand masterpiece. Tragedy or heroic effort, one doesn't know. Does it even matter as long as its grand? John Steinbeck would understand.

All I need is a hammer to break through this glass enclosure. Yet, I have a hammer, tetsui, right here, at my beck and call at any time. I am not afraid of the pain, but to be cut, to be damaged, am I willing to risk it? Life is dangerous and to achieve great things I must also take the risks. So many things, dreams, phantom houses of cards seemed so unreal, are now waiting for me to take them. This, ah, the mai ai, is waiting for me.

And yet, I want to bury it, kick it, turn everything inside out. I want to scream my rage at the destruction, the dead ocean, the pain.

Within me is the nexus of a new beginning. I can break the cycle, and I can be the progenitor of new life. She calls me, and I am afraid.

The hag is wrong, my dream will not be stillborn. She and I have great things to do. Just as I sing my mother's lullabies to my Love, then shall I sing those songs and new ones, in my mother's inherited voice. I am strong, carrying the legacy, the promise, the magick, the charm of my family, to a new generation to carry it into the future, to a new day.

The noble, the few, the pure, this can be held sacred and protected.

What have you to protect? To speak up for? What is worth saving? I am my mother's daughter and my father's son. I am lover, teacher, priestess, witch, friend. The Goddess held me and let me be reborn in the ringing tone of my own voice of the cauldron so many years ago. That tone rings true even now. That tone is my spark, my spirit, my Truth. That tone will be the accompaniment to my voice, singing the matrilinear songs, to my Daughter, she who is not, but some day will be.

sculpture by Laura Larson

Saturday, June 5, 2010

The calm before the storm

Heavy the air
with electric charge, heralds
through the night sky
galloping, the calvary comes.

I watch and wait
the storm lights my eyes
as within his cape
change rides nigh

Tension builds a passion of Will
for the future comes
bidden by none.
Time marches through
Are you ready?
or will you be taken?
swept away by the mighty current.

Yea, change comes.
I can feel it aching in my bones
boiling through my veins
and pounding in my ears.
He comes, and sword drawn,
I welcome his arrival, ready.