by Jacqui Woodward-Smith
(Dedicated to Monica Sjöö)
From Mawu's labyrinthine belly birthed
the serpents of your feathered dreaming.
From Coatlicue's dark Underworld
the threads of your soul shuttle weaving.
And travelling deep in snake-blessed fire
You sing the land worn old with waiting.
You shed your skin, transform the earth;
your beauty ever self-creating.
In Tanit's darkened wells of power
your kundalini flames are rising.
And deep in moist maternal earth
your serpent song of life is sung.
Oracular waters hold the key
to memories of ancient knowing.
And Sarasvati's lute reveals the
sweetness of your tongue.
Swan feather winged, you fan the flame
of creativity and learning.
Your spinning wheel the tool on which
the web of life is spun.
And serpent coiled beneath the hearth
your primal fire is stirring.
Your snowdrops whisper courage to the sun.
Thank you to Colin Russ for the beautiful swan photograph.