Because I have been such a tardy and recalcitrant blogger of late I am throwing caution to the wind and flooding this space with all my withheld offerings. From famine to flood with blessings and love!
Sisters of the Deep Waters
I am very grateful to the beautiful Jane Hardwick Collings for her enduring request for a mermaid image, inspiring me to connect with these watery beings of the fluid, emotive realms of the ocean. I hadn't realised my inner mermaid until now!
Prints available on Etsy
www.etsy.com/shop/lucypierce
Making
Space
I
am making space.
I
am making a space within which I am enough, in and of myself.
A
space with an edge beyond which I end and you begin.
I
am making space in rejection of the belief
that
there is not room enough for me to exist,
for
me to shine and storm,
to
inconvenience and disrupt,
to
radiate and transform.
I
am reaching in through the flesh and the sinew,
I
am pulling on bones, stretching out muscles,
making
room within for all that I was born to be.
I
am being stretched and wrung,
squeezing
out all that is not love,
all
that would keep me small,
all that would have me believe that I am not enough.
I am wrestling out the voice that would tell me
that I am only safe in the inbetween spaces of dark matter.
I
am making space for me to birth myself into being.
I
am making space in my pelvis
so
that the three million year old woman
can
come to rest there,
and
guide my every step from her ancient womb.
I
am making space in my heart
for
a thousand orgasmic blossoms to bloom,
ecstatically
fragrant,
thunderously
robust,
exquisitely
tender.
I
am making space in defiance of the story
that
I am a worthy receptacle for other people’s pain,
the
contract that I make with them to take them into myself
and
have them seek their healing through me.
No
more! I am making space and I give you back to yourself.
I
am making space in order that when I travel out
to
the far reaches of the cosmos
a
part of me stays close to home,
to
hold my self worth by the hearth fire
with
the Grandmothers,
not
allowing me to take all of me, all the way out there,
in
search of the loving boundary
for
the small, waiting child within me,
because
in this space that I have made for myself
I
know that I am loved and infinitely lovable, and here I am safe.
I
am making a space with an edge
through
which I can filter your opinion of me,
so
that even if you don’t like me, I can still like myself.
I
am making space for the fierce Mumma roar,
the
ancient wild protectress,
who
is unshakable in her mercy
for
the vulnerable and the innocent,
for
the unloved and the wounded.
I
am making space in my throat
for
the full bodied blooming of my song,
the
voice of my power to meet the world
unbound
and free,
blossoming
and bold.
I
am making space for vision to be received,
and
for the will to enact the call of what I know to be true,
I
am making space so that the gap between
my
vision and my actioning is seamless,
because
there is space to say Yes to what is mine to give
and
I am answerable to none but the ancient lore of life.
I
am making space for the blood to flow,
and
to be reclaimed by the land
and
to receive the ancient lineage of my dream speak
through
the precious thread of my moon time,
and
to drink deep of the Earth,
primal,
raw and sensual.
I
am making space to swell and to undulate,
to
unravel and enfold,
to
dance and to sing,
to sleep and to dream,
to
love and to play.
I
am making a space where I am sovereign queen,
from
here I do not give myself away,
from
here I am whole,
from
here there is time and space for me.
I
am making space to hold my tender, frightened child
with
such a fierce authority of love,
I
am making the space to take responsibility for myself,
and
my unmet need so that I can set my loved ones free.
I
am making space to suckle from the stars,
the
sweet milk of vision and mystery
and
the ancient story of our belonging.
I
am making space to let the Earth mate with the Cosmos,
in
sacred union,
through
the holy passage of my body
I
am making space for my ancestors to shudder through my bones,
their
raucous No to all that does not serve my purest becoming,
and
their Yes to that which gently opens
a
clean fold of being
that
will serve all of our futures.
Words and image © Lucy Pierce 2016
