I saw you on a Moonbeam, a gift from Ix Chel’s jar.
I saw you on a Moonbeam, so close and yet, so far.
You smiled at me and blew a kiss, a treasured gift to see.
I saw you on a Moonbeam and shouted out with glee.
Take me with you, I cried, to a far and distant land
We’ll play and shout our laughter and I shall hold your hand.
We will kiss and love and dance about, our joy for all to see
While skipping on that Moonbeam, together you and me!
What fun we’ll have in dreamtime, together we both will share
Our joys and happy pleasures while dancing way up there.
So take my hand and we will play across the many miles
Until such time that I shall see, your soft and gentle smile.
Deanne March 2001
cold and clear
mountain stream, wash me clean.
pounding at the edge
take my pain that I may live.
cool and damp
fresh and moist
awaken me to renewal.
Midsummer brings a craziness of spirit,
a wild urging to break loose and soar.
Drones impregnate the queen
and fall to death’s door.
My longing and lustful heart
seeks this ecstatic trance
is it the Horned Sun King
drawing me to the dance?
I seek the company of wild youth
to dance at revel fires,
drumming out nature’s rhythms
triggering my inner desire.
Heat caught from the Solstice Fire
and the sun on its longest day
awakens this sleeping woman
now ready for sacred play.
I want to dance bare breasted in the sun
seeking the fire and the flame,
my heart opening to all that is
a woman wild and untamed.
your silver trunk and dark spotted branches,
nestled in the winter snow,
your red blood known for many cures.
You drop your seeds in the coldest times,
are the first to grow after fire.
You prepare the way for other trees
and grow on barren land,
your fallen leaves and branches,
nourishment for those that follow.
my memories of you standing there
in the wintry home of my youth
are reminders of your firm resolve.
Though in appearance delicate and soft
You have the strength to grow
when others quickly die.
You are the seed of beginnings
of infinite potential
tall, proud Lady of the Woods.
Bare Tree, here in the cold of winter,
I stand here and gaze at your branches.
You are so adaptable to the changing seasons.
Each year, as the days begin to shorten,
you prepare yourself for the coming cold,
your leaves turning color and then dropping to the ground.
Those leaves, so full of moisture
would freeze with the cold
and cause you grievous harm.
Your branches would grow heavy with ice and snow.
In your bareness, Tree, you show us your wisdom.
In this time of cold,
You are preparing for future growth.
You are readying yourself for spring
When you will send out new leaves and flowers
and begin the growth cycle again.
Would that I could feel this cycle more within my own core
and know when it is time to be still and to rest,
when to pull back and listen,
when to be still and stand, rooted in the ground,
when to drop what could harm me
and when to go within to ready myself for the new.
Thank you, Bare Tree, for showing me this lesson
Thank you for the gift of your knowledge.
Hadaig, you are so smart
With your large cawing voice,
Unique and patient in flight
Your compact body with
long-legs and thick neck
a heavy, straight bill.
with broad, rounded wings
and wing-tip feathers that spread like fingers
I am amazed at your fine body
you have not a speck of any other color –
all black, even your legs and bill.
you could teach us a lot about being with others
living in large flocks, sometimes of millions
how do you do that
when I have trouble with only a few?
you are inquisitive
and very mischievous, my friend
and so good at solving problems
I just don’t know how you do it
eating almost anything
… even robbing chicks from nests
Oh, bold Hadaig,
you are so aggressive
you often chase away hawks
I know you must surely be full of yourself!
I see you In fields, open woodlands, and forests
on lawns and in parking lots
you raid garbage cans and
pick over what we throw out
you are a great teacher
of cleverness and versatility
It is no wonder you are beloved of the Goddess
Holly trees are rarely allowed to grow to their full height of sixty-five feet and are instead trimmed down as hedges or ornamental bushes.
I am a Holly Tree. Many of us are Holly Trees. As strong women – women whose voices want to shout out to the world – women who have a really hard time being silent in the face of injustice – women who rebel at being the fairer sex – rebel at being trimmed down or at being ornamental bushes!
From early in life the process of being “trimmed down” begins. We are silenced – shushed – trained to be “good little girls” and not assertive – bold or daring!
I am a Holly Tree who has not been trimmed – a Holly Tree who has grown to her full height – a Holly Tree with full spiky leaves – sharp barbs – rich color – full and robust berries – a battle waging spear – who will not – can not – be silent in the face of injustice. A Holly Tree – strong and tall in service to Goddess!
salmon swims from her memory
long forgotten, never known
all she knows is she must be there.
driven to a place
returning as ancestors before
generation after generation.
called home once more
alive – alert – swift
riding on her memories
ancient as time
is this what I feel
in my yearning?
my own bones knowing
an aching at times,
a body longing for home.
am I as the salmon,
pulled by ancient memories
calling me home?
Poetry and drawing by Deanne
you forced your way
through Her body
breaking layers of rock
penetrating Her surface
exposing Her under layers…
as a symbol
of raw power
so much still hidden
layer after layer
of what might be