Woman of the Land.

I know what it feels like to be lost in the dark forest of awakening,

Aloneness creeping like poison ivy around my soul,

Silently screaming for someone to see me, to hold me,

To release me from the grip of fear.

When no one comes, the ground beneath me falls away,

Exposing gnarled roots, as I surrender myself to the earth.

As I sink further down, I see the bareness of the branches,

Just a few leaves left, hanging on as the wind blows harder.

Then as the frost comes, I welcome the numbness,

Tears stopped in their tracks, replaced by crystals.

The weight of the falling snow crushes my fragile ego,

And the last leaf silently lets go, to become the land.

As Spring is being dreamed into new life,

I watch the returning sun make rainbows of possibility.

As the ground softens, my breath deepens, I begin to emerge,

A tiny shoot of reclaimed hope determined to push through the mulch.

As I allow nature to nurture me, colour floods through my veins,

Branches full of confidence, whispered promises in petals.

I see with renewed eyes in the stream, a face I remember,

No longer dead at sea, returned to “I”, a woman of the land.