Like an unsung song I have always known,
I have experienced myself to be riddled
with incomplete spaces and unlived places within.
As though essential clues were still buried, deep inside the body,
indecipherable codes and locks and holds,
camouflaged and obscure,
deflecting light and attention and love.
And now like an awakened crusade,
I have mounted my stead and bare-breasted I ride,
powerful and fierce and exquisitely soft inside,
into the darkness of my history,
back through the gateways of my deaths and my births,
eyes piercing the shadows,
anchored within the womb, my vigilant sentry,
ancient seer, awakened.
The rhythmic stride of my mount unrelenting,
senses strained to their full,
I am retrieving myself piece by piece,
unbinding the vows of my past,
reclaiming the power held captive
beyond the reach of my memory.
I am calling her home to me
She who carries her medicine,
She who hungers to be seen,
She who knows the heart-seed of her purpose,
the unfolding mystery of being home
in the throne-room of her soul.
From between the plump, sticky folds of my motherhood,
my Huntress awakens, sleek and honed and dark as the night.
She is retrieving the Dreamer to the heart of life,
searching for She who sees the vision.
She who holds within her,
clear and true and easeful,
the capacity to respond.
The heavy compass of authority
swinging from the outer to within.
It is time and there is no other path
but this focused reclamation of myself ,
of my vision, my purpose,
my dream, my response,
Lucy Pierce © 2013