May 26, 2013


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,
my authority,
my love.

Lucy Pierce © 2013

May 12, 2013

The Milky Way

I feel to name a poison river that sometimes nudges at my heart,
pulling me back from the truth like an undertow,
feeding the violence of my separation.
In reverential courage my Sister shares,
telling of awakenings and magnificent serpents unfurling,,
and energies aligning within her holy body.
A part of me rejoices, for I love this sister so deeply
and her story is a river of mystery and beauty
and exquisite home-comings….
And then also there is a part of me that asks,
Why does she feel this when I do not?
How can she have what I myself long for,
and endeavor deeply to find?
A sister joyously announces a Spirit name
gleaned from the deep journey within
and I wonder, why do I not have a spirit name?
Why do I not have what she has?
And who is she to just own it like that, when I cannot?
How can she be bold where I am meek?
Not always but sometimes it is there,
beneath the surface a begrudging,
that wants for myself what it is that she has,
that courage and beauty and shining..
As though it were a game in which we were competing,
vying for pawns and kings and queens,
entrapped upon a narrow field with a finish line,
or precarious ladders and hidden pit falls from grace.
Sometimes it shouts but mostly it is very quiet, insidious,
so soft that it almost goes unnoticed.
These women that I speak of,
have traveled eons of time and pain and besiegement
to courageously unravel these mysteries from within.
For lifetimes they have toiled to come home to themselves,
in ways that only they can themselves comprehend.
The majesty of their flowering is a miracle
and a testament to their fierce tenacity and inquiry,
the depth of their love and unrelenting courage.
And the truth is that that their becoming of all that they are,
makes my life and all the world such a magnificent place,
made so much more rich and potent and glorious
by their powerful shining.
So why would it be that a sister's beauty would bring forth
such a small and begrudging part of me?
Do I truly believe that the glory of a sister's shining
might take the shine away from me?
Might I seem dull in comparison?
Where does this envy spring  from?
How deep is the wound in the psyche of woman?
And on the other side of this coin,
How do I dull my own shining   for the fear of hurting my fellow woman?
Why am I so very timid in the claiming of my own unique space in the world?
What is it that I fear? Whose judgment or accusation do I hide from?
And is there not enough space for us all to shine as bright as can be?
Radiant, divine, immaculately ourselves,
like the multitudinous stars sweeping the heavens,
the Milky Way of Womanhood.
It is my prayer that you may shine all of your light on me, my beloved sister,
that you may dwell also in all your darkness before me,
and that I may stand in the glow of that glorious becoming
and truly celebrate all that you are,
without the fear or judgment or belittlement of self,
that sometimes dwell like sharks beneath the waters of my smile.
May I meet you with a profound delight in the potent beauty of She,
birthing herself home to her power upon the Earth,
for each and every one of us,

Lucy Pierce © 2013