Transformation: The Primordial Feminine Speaks

Inanna (Art by Mara Berendt Friedman)

Inanna (Art by Mara Berendt Friedman)

“When you consider something like death, after which (there being no news flash to the contrary) we may well go out like a candle flame, then it probably doesn’t matter if we try too hard, are awkward sometimes, care for one another too deeply, are excessively curious about nature, are too open to experience, enjoy a nonstop expense of the senses in an effort to know life intimately and lovingly.” ~ Diane Ackerman

Transformation: The Primordial Feminine Speaks

As if death could stop me…
You only avoid it because
You think it’s the end…
But it’s just the beginning…

As if the fragile contracts
You have with your fears
Could break my stride.

As if the molten longings in your loins,
Tirelessly moving
toward your heart,
Could not be heard.

I will be acknowledged.
I will be served.

I will be ridden like a wild horse,
Unsatisfied until the dawn breaks
and birds fly
against a golden sky…
Untethered from childhood blueprints
of scarcity and not-enough-ness
passed on from delirious generations
of patrons of prostration
to the lords of devastation…
Armor and sword…
Army and hoard…

To that…you will dance to no more…

Every bit of me will consume you
And transform you
Whether you accept me or not…
Will you learn to surrender?

Will you finally throw your body,
naked and hungry,
to the ground
and release with exhale?

Trembling thoughts of what will be lost
Cloud what can be.
The mystery is rich with possibility,
Don’t you know?

Crown your heart with
A garland of cactus blooms…
Let coyote call pierce through
The trappings
Of your worn out stories…

Listen to soul whispers,
Listen to my call in the
middle of the night.
Leap into the dark
And know that
Nature loves courage…
And that every step
Will be met with
Solid earth
From the rattling bones
Of yesterday’s choices.

August 24, 2015 ~ by Lindsay Wilson ~ an exploration of the death and rebirth process of the creative, primordial feminine.  The Sumerian myth of the Descent of Inanna covers this well…as well as the the 40 day journey of the the planet Venus from morning star to evening star…about this time of year.  In a culture where technology promises newness and better-ness and onward and upward without the checks and balances of rot, decay, and compost…the voice of the primordial feminine…the sacred cycle…is rarely heard.  This poem is an attempt at exploring that voice.

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