One Poem & Three Collages
Rachel Lee


from TRUTH OR CONSEQUENCES

 

Moon Beckoning Dead Earth
 
The dragging of my Self
against walls
of umber and blood
serrates my womb
against a nestling pain.
 
Sweet and low down,
reaching into
the recesses
of my cavernous well.
 
In shadows,
flames
dance
to chamberous symphonies;
embers and smoke.
 
We complete circles
of time
losing sense of endings
or beginnings;
knowing only
our cycles
of being.
 
Humor pours out
circulating drumbeats,
sounding our feet
to rhythms
known by
ancestors.
 
The smell
of smoldering herbs
harkens the testimony
of wise ways.
 
Secrets held
in the hands of
ancient protectors.
 
Sage femme.
Healer.
Witch,
a cauldron
at your feet.
 
In the raven night sky
the Moon
beckons me
home.
 
In death
I am rebirthed.
May my Spirit
ascend.