Jodi outside, tough as nails
Brightly colored tattoed skin
Jodi inside, soft as silk
Never nurtured by mother’s milk.

Hurt by life, this child of pain
Hurt by those whose love she’d gain.
Battered, beaten, bruised and torn
By those around her she was scorned.

She tries her best to be fierce
Her toughness hides her fragile self.
Inside her soul, the gentle fawn
Dares not be another’s pawn.

With her friends she seeks to grow
Goddess led, she now knows
That love will heal the hurt and pain
And through knowledge she will gain.

She must start her life again
As if a child in school, begin.
She must read to get ahead
And learn the rules as she’s led.

Someday she’ll see she has no need
For smoke and stuff to hide her pain
The Lady wants her pure and clean
On the Goddess she can lean.

It is not easy to learn to love
When love’s not taught.
It’s not easy to hide the dread
When lovers find new paths to tread.

I hope her teachers guide her well
And teach by doing what they say
Living smart and choosing right
Showing that the path is bright.

When Jodi learns to love herself
Then love from others will be a boon
Not a need to fill a hole
But fluffy frosting for the soul.

Deanne (who knows when – many years ago)

In the Tinne Moon – I am Holly



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!


Her Breath

I am a child of the Earth.
I live and breathe, walk and dance upon Her face.
She is my source and I learn from Her each day. This I know…
Life begins in the dark as Desire.
Deep in that dark place life begins to form, taking root and becoming…..

As life stirs…… deep in the Mother’s Belly,
there is a gentle quickening, movement
that alerts us to a “knowing”
of the presence of something yet to come.

As the Earth prepares Herself with warmth,
the rains and waters come and flood the land,
nourishing the soil in which She is creating new life.

Earth and Water and Fire
come together and Form continues to take shape.

One last thing is needed.
Just as new form emerges,
She breathes Air upon it.
Her Breath, giving Life to all that She has nurtured.

Earth and Water and Fire and Air

Her Breath ~

breathing life into all, we open to Her gift ~ a partnership in co-creating all that you can be ~
spiritual mentoring and wellness coaching

Old Tattooed Woman

031 Old Woman, you stand with your feet at the water’s edge,
Your old skin gnarled and rough,
With heavy thighs marked by signs that people left.
What was their need that they left their names
And jagged hearts for me to see?

It must have been hard for you
Feeling the sharp point of the knife
Making cuts on your skin.
But in your most holy sacred place
You embraced their gifts and made them a part of you.

Arm Old Tattooed Woman, your bark
Holds memories of those who were here before me
Their names marking your skin.
See? Your arms are wide and strong
Offering shade for those held in your embrace.

I wish to be like you and take in what hurts
And weather the pain by toughening up
Like you, I will be made strong by life’s pointed edges,
Made wiser by honoring what is,
And made holy by embracing what comes.

Ancient One

tree_of_lifeAncient One,
your roots hold fast to the Earth drawing strength.

Your white hair
shimmers against the sun and speaks to me of wisdom.

Ancient One,
you rise through granite, claiming this space, standing ground.

Your gnarled branches reach out
across the rocks
holding Her close to you.

Old Wise One,
If I lay in your arms
will I be one with you?

Ancient One,
if I rest curled in your roots,
will I know wisdom too?

Ancient One,
for just this moment,
may I be with you?