A poetic verse to our Ancestors…
I come from a long line of flame tenders, and they remind me now of a time of great connection and reward. Times where our heart beated along side of the earths. I can feel that it has been a long while since my line of ancestry has been able to connect, it has been a long while since we knew what space holding was, a long while indeed. Slowly we are moving back to selfishness, back to the wild and back to soul, to wisdom, to love. No longer do we shy away from the chrone, hag, and shadows parts of ourselves. We are learning to embrace the fearsome, deeply buried fragments of each other, not aiming to make them more acceptable but only witnessing them beautifully. I can see it in my mother’s eye, and feel it in her soul, she is also remembering the feeling of a cocooned circle of women, hands caked in dirt, and the harsh wind of comfort. Growth is needed and now instead of fighting it, we are wanting it, we are calling it forth. May we keep remembering, may we keep pulling the sagacity of our ancient ancestors to this present moment and may it not ever again be a long while that we have forgotten.
May we dream wild visions, and in those wild dream visions, may all our kindreds stand encircling a tree, pressing forehead to bark and praying for liberation, praying for resolve. Standing amongst the strands of grass, toes gripping mud, they just want to be free, to live in their own wild way, and to watch their loved ones do the same, just as we do. A grand connection they have created, intertwining their own energy with the web of earth’s consciousness. Praying for us, asking for our wildness to no longer be hunted, trashed or rejected. To let us howl, to be fierce, to be soft, to be whatever we want. They ask it and it is so. May we all release the things that bind us and may we remember the beginning, the very first great grandmother that still holds us today.
We are all living bloom sprouted from seeds planted by our great-great-grandmothers, in a lush land of greed and battle, and these resilient roots of ours will never be pulled from our wild foundation. Things may tread and pound but we can never be uprooted, as our roots have been long-standing, tended by generations before us. Dug deep into the earth, these roots twist and turn, created by the many experiences harbored in our double helix, for they are you and you are them. Thankful, for we could not be who we are today if they were not who they were then. May these roots stay strong and juicy for many generations to come, even against all odds, even when the above ground becomes brittle and dead, may our roots stay anchored.
Here is to our most heathen year,
*This blog post contains one sentence journal prompts form Danielle Dulsky