Palettal Prose: Sacred Stones

I am Shaman,

witch of old, healer

My dwelling is clean

to hold my intentions clear

I dance to fling off

the dead wood

I dance to raise the earth fire

ecstatic spin

through every cell

I crawl through tunnels

of the underworld

to find the sacred stones

gems of truth

holding steadfast

in the bones of Earth

I put them in my pouch

hang them over my heart

And when I sing to them

they open

to flood me with their Light

And when I sing to them

they love me

and guide me

through the night

-Anny Eastwood, 2001

Sacred Stones

 

If you’d like to submit a story or poem for ‘Palettal Prose’ I’d love to hear from you!