Gentle Born, Ink on Paper
Oh wise one, come near,
tender one, gentle born.
I am making a home for you here in my body.
So that it might be safe again for you to be seen.
Oh ancient one, small one,
dark and true.
You who sees in the darkness,
come home to the body,
live again upon the Earth,
for she loves you and weeps when you are gone from her.
I am making a home for you deep in my heart,
Elk woman, with antlers that reach to the stars,
and read the air,
and draw the dark fronds from the fertile ground,
Dark one, gentle one,
don't take fright, return to me,
my little mother who sees,
ancient one of the old ways.
You who I must come in so very close to hear,
hold myself so exquisitely soft to feel,
shy one, so easily frightened.
I must make myself so very strong,
to hold that space so soft,
in which you might come to dwell, protected,
that I might hear your voice in all that I do,
that I might see with the eyes of your tender heart,
in all that I behold.
I must be your courage and your safety,
that you may stay soft,
and return to the forest of my heart.
Lucy Pierce © 2013