Palettal Prose: Wild Woman Stalks

Wild Woman stalks the corners

of my heart

her keen eye discerning,

nose ever sniffing

her fangs patient and poised

knowing what in the name of Life

must be consumed

She lives deeply in the pulse

of Life/Death/Life

She plants seeds, offers nurturance,

but does not spare the blade

in the Season of Reaping.

She knows the Grand Cycle

knows Her place as it shifts along the hoop

She dances The Wheel, returning Her bones to the earth below

to feed all those from whom She has nursed her own existence

the Dance of the Wild–She lives inside me

so as i wander in wonder amidst the cycle

i offer songful prayer to the bodies of the healers

i pull for my plate of harvest into tinctures

the blood that i spill to create is always my own,

from this body or that,

always mine

and forever Sacred.

Wild Woman Stalks

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