La Obscura Luz


April 2021

Mujer de Los Acantilados

Where there is a seaside cliff

†here is a woman standing 

Watching and praying 

Crying and drumming

Commanding wind and tide

face carved by sunrise blaze

nest of moon beam upon her head

For the Eagle’s watchful prayer

She stands

Calling Butterfly

From across the waves

Sending Butterfly

Across the waves

Holding vigil at the portal

Spinning and weaving

Wailing and singing

For the holy souls 

Shedding crucible of Caterpillar

Unwinding from limb and ledge

That once held protection from wind

The most tender of wing

Mosaic of Earth and Heaven

When unfurled by thirst and longing

Withstands every torrent of Storm

Real transformation flies 

Inside the veil between Sea and Sky

No fear of the drowning deep 

And fire of firmament

When guided by cliff song 

Hymns of resurrection

In her whispering and chanting

Praising and raising the good name

Until all Her children fly 

The Ocean’s trail of tears

back home


Never before now

It could not have been

Genius rules over pushing

Force creates resistance – implosion

A cascade of lessons fall upon me, necessarily

when I project my will upon beauty

shaping itself according to natural law

Leaning  into is not the same as domination, and it is not passive

A softening with a posture rooted in faith

A rising from womb to womb to womb, born again, and forever

My mental body always searching outside, never to find You

The mind exhales when given permission

to release a role given by coercion

Returning to the heart requires wings. 

Wings require remembering the song that sings light alive, first in me,

so I am full enough to sing forth that tree, upon which I will perch.

Patience is in the ways of the wind

My seed song adrift, hovering above home,

until my vessel is clear for immaculate conception.

An arm of air lays me down into fertile soil, the blueprint calls forth

the synchronicities of Life to bring me alive in alignment

with the One they thought they could erase from me.

This Holy work can take lifetimes for the winds of change

 to lift my wings, to flower forth in perfection.

This is the lifetime my ancestors tell me

The prophecies could not have been heard any time before,

from any other tongue, in the way I can display

Love to those who have lost their way. 

I land firmly in my skin and embrace the gift.

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