I wrote a poem and placed it your hands.
Around the poem I sketched many things,
a kingfisher on a branch of the tree of life,
images that will blaze in my heart forever.
Free at last after sixty grief-stricken years,
your dead, beaten up, broken down body
has departed, they cannot reach you now
as the Soul ascends to meet the ancestors.
As the sun stands still
and light crowns the day,
let us remember Sophia
on whirling wings,
transcendent and dazzling,
Mother of the Universe.
Let us not allow the dark,
inside the hell we’ve
lived for months on end,
to destroy our light.
Let us rise and shine,
brighter than Father Sun
smiles on each new bud.
Feel the change in the air,
know that soon
we too will be released
by our keeper below,
into the morning woods.
Full Harvest Moon blessings to all! Birthed under Oaktober’s magickal full moon, here’s the postscript to my second poetry collection, The Shepherd’s Daughter, my very own “Red Book”.
Writing my second book has been an unexpected joy!