(Inspired by a dream after seeing a mandala window lit by the 2019 fire at Notre Dame) Didn’t she take you into the center of

Let us remember what brings us to the Great Mother – her wild primal intelligence gestating in our belllies. The old indigenous one is restoring

I belong to the way of the star walker, one who knows the taste and feel of destiny, who tracks the truth of who and

Oh Pachamama, spirit of the old wild places within— nourish the rich, dark soil of this dear one’s birth. From your rich, dark humus springs

Everything is pointing toward release . . . letting the divine find us arriving at last in the long awaited moment we thought was horizon

What was the original shape of your face – before life’s blows tightened your jaw, narrowed your eyes, furrowed your brow? Before you forgot your