The Phoenix

I am the phoenix.

I am the thunderbird.

I am She who is renewed by the fire

The pain of being burned to ashes

Is the price of dismemberment

Flames burn off the dross

     I will rise




Claws that shred

Tears that heal



Winter Is Coming


A quiet house on a cold and blustery morning,
Cup of coffee in my hand.
I sit by the window and look out at the rising sun —
No urban wildlife in sight, not even people.
Instead, I watch
Fallen leaves dance up the street.
The autumn wind leading in a polka swirl,
Trees swaying against a metal gray sky.
And I think,
“Winter is surely coming.”

Thunder Moon

Tonight rises the thunder moon
But there is no rain in sight
No lightning
No thunder
I look at the parking lot and see
Heat rising in waves
Blurring the ordinary reality
Giving a glimpse of the non-ordinary
I think of the thermal drafts
That turkey vultures use
To ease their flight up and away
My spirit longs to join them
Rising up with the heat
Away from the confines of brick and mortar,
Workday tasks and project milestones –
Over fields and woods and streams
Toward the setting sun
And the rise of the thunder moon


The trajectory marks where I am going.

But, my eyes don’t see behind

To know where I have been.

I feel the presence of the Ancestors

Calling me to wholeness,

Calling me to a remembering,

Inviting me to let go of time

And embrace this moment as the essence

Of all moments:

All that I am

All that I was

All that I will be

Sits within me like a seed

Waiting for the water of my acceptance

To sprout and grow

The Dream

One solitary woman
Stands under the moon’s half-light.
She cries for her people:
Spirits broken,
The false laughter of the sun people,
Masks shown to the world at large.

She breaks into a wild laughter,
Free of all inhibitions,
Filled with the knowledge of her strength.
From the shadows, a hand reaches out
And clasps her own.
Two spirits freed from their chains,
Roaring with joy,
In the presence of Diana, the moon-goddess.

Soon, the night is filled with the sounds of freedom,
Echoing through the hills,
Across the not-so-barren deserts,
Into the hearts of the Appollonian priests.

They fear the savage sounds
Of the night, for the laughter
Is the double-edged labrys,
Cutting the chains that keep us from ourselves.
They don’t want to be freed,
For the night hides day-masks and
Forces the inward eye to look at the Self.

…. A link is severed and
The Appollonian forgers try to repair
The broken chain,
But the labrys is wielded by the
Divine Spirit of Living–
And the priests cannot win.

The laughter gains force, even among
The day-people, for they are finding
The Moon-force in their souls.

The One Solitary Woman
Looks on the day,
And is pleased.


(written circa 1984)

Imbolc – Brighid’s Day

Imbolc – Brighid’s Day

I love the energy of Brighid’s Day.
The balance between past and future,
That holy place that requires nothing-
But takes from the past what it needs
To form the future it wills into being.

I think how my own past
Shapes my present and lays ground for my future;
I step onto Sacred Ground at Imbolc,
As I release my vision of shores grown familiar
And sail toward a future I can’t yet see …

Balance. Compassion. Creativity.
Integrity. Faith. Manifestation.
I honor the energy of Brighid today
And giving, I feel blessed by her smile.