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She called to me in dreams
the witch,
the oracle,
the crone
singing sweet songs
of timeless horrors
and ageless wonder
jcl Jan 6
there is hope
like a rising sun
on a distance horizon
lighting up the morning sky
pushing the darkness aside
melting the clouds away

the rays warm my face
coaxing a smile
squinting my eyes
i take a breath, savoring being alive

the sky is blueing deeper, clearer
morning haze is lifting, disappearing
life is awakening, stirring, moving
the beauty is overwhelming, awe inspiring

i see anew, with an indigo eye
things i’d sensed but never knew
i feel too deep, intuit too much
beheld as a curse, repressed, suppressed

i burned, screamed, fell into ashes
my soul lay fallow, quiet, healing, waiting
resurrecting from cold dark depths
heart beating, eyes opening, arms reaching

vindication from self doubt
forgive me Cassandra, Cairn, Mother
i weep, openly, proudly, for your grace
it is the 9th and final gift
#552-2019.03.11
indigo flower photos https://flic.kr/s/aHskLRTg2B
jcl Dec 2018
you are the center, the sun in the sky
warming, lighting, guiding those below

you are the core, the hub in the wheel
forming, maintaining, strengthening the circle

you are the earth, the bedrock beneath
supporting, stabilizing, reinforcing our lives

you are the reason for our being, our births, our lives
nurturing, nourishing, caring for our hopes, our dreams

you gather, sort the fruits, roots harvested from the land
tending, stoking, reviving embers smothering in the hearth

your strength transcends your body, your mind, your heart
from the first child, to the last, your love, affection is forever

you cradle, caress, kiss, comforting the child
reassuring, protecting, shooing monsters away

you are the strong, tough, steady woman in our lives
fierceness of a lioness, tender as a kitten, loving her child
storm siren Oct 2016
"Do not judge them,"
She whispered softly,
"You may be old,
But you have yet to live as well."

And they stared at her,
For the first time in decades,
With eyes wide with wonder.
"But I have seen so many things,
I am certain I know more."

"No,"
Smiled the crone,
Orange eyes twinkling like starlight.
"You know what you know for yourself,
And yourself alone. Your wisdom is yours."

"Shouldn't I make my wisdom theirs as well?"
Cried the playwright.
"They're making too many mistakes, I have to fix it."

And still, the crone continued to smile.
"Their mistakes are theirs to make."
She reached out and placed a hand upon the playwrights' paper.
"Just as your wisdom is yours, their experiences are theirs, and just as valid as yours."
She took the quill from the playwright, and tucked the crow's feather in her hair.
"Allow them to grow without your bias."

"But I don't approve--"
The crone gave the playwright a bright smile,
Though her eyes were dark,
Which ultimately shut them up.

"Your place is not to judge. It is to nurture. It is to guide."
She said softly, though her tone was much more assertive.

"Then let me guide,"
The playwright began.

"There is a vast divide between guidance and control."
The vision of her shimmered, and she took a step back.

"I don't understand."
The playwright held their head in their hands, knuckles white while gripped onto curls.

"And you will not understand until you yourself live."
The old crone cooed, before her image blew away in soft red wind.

And there the playwright was left,
A half written letter filled with judgment and smudged ink,
And no quill to finish it with.
They fell back into their chair,
Glaring at their writing desk.

Whether or not the crone was right or wrong,
They still didn't get their quill back.
Just a thought.
Autumn Briarhart Mar 2016
I am resilient today
I've yet to right a wrong,
Write poem,
Sight a note,
Convey in pros,
Hope for hope,
Join the stream,
Bathe in logos,
Come close to host the thoughts of all;
Boast? I don't think so.
What's not achieved Isn't real?
Really?
I cannot convey the souls that reside this body,
This mind,
Chimed,
From which end of the chimera?
The poem intoned,
Vocal aspects of the crone.
Cyclically saying,
I am resilient.
MC Hammered Dec 2014
Maiden,
New beginnings sprout in feminine Earth.
Legs rooted in blossoming
Spring.
Newborn innocence cultivates in
raw purity.

Mother,
essence of life,
predecessor of power.
Like fruit ripening in preparation of harvest.
Fertile fulfillment found in
abundance.

Crone,
a culmination of earned experience,
compassionate wisdom.
Cold winter bears bereavement.
Change in continuous
cycle.

~

Mother earth,
complexion of cosmos.
My celestial
creator.
Maiden, mother, crone. Woman.
Goddess.

— The End —