What does it mean to be in Ayni,
right relation to all things,
all parts of ourselves?
How to ignite new nodes
in the Matrix of the liminal space container, between the suffering
of thrashing about,
and giving it space to be?
Weaving
Collecting
Collaborating
Honoring
She said, “Artis has been doing this work since she was in the womb,” and this filled me with a welling up from an ancient place in myself.
Like the gentle stirring of the wind’s kisses,
rattling loose that which has had its
day in the sun,
let those fallen leaves
nourish the ground in hibernation,
composting into rich and fertile soil
for the future flowers and trees
that have yet to grow.
Rising, Rooted,
in Fertile Soil,
on Sacred Ground.
Creating a bridge
from the suffering my mother
may have experienced in her mother’s womb -
to the suffering she experienced
having her womb activated,
occupied by this undesired entity,
prompting me to begin that work
of transmutation, which of course
I signed on for when I was spirit -
to the bridge of my own womb
activated, healing, striving to
break the cycles . . . so myriad
It’s hard to name,
but in essence, of tortured womanhood,
motherhood, personhood.
Devalued, persecuted, disempowered,
mischaracterized, domesticated,
subjugated, no more!
Let them feel the power of my truth-telling,
the comfort of my bosom,
the nature of my nurturing,
the moan of my mothering,
the wisdom of the women
and men I’ve been,
from here to eternity,
damning the abusive powers that be,
demanding, I AM ME!
See me, hear me, feel me,
Listen to me, learn from me!
Though I may feel battered and bruised
by the woes of this earthly world,
There is, yes, sustaining me,
the zeitgeist of
a wild and wonderful warrior woman,
whose wisdom is as ancient as the moon & stars,
whose work began long before
I appeared as a twinkle of stardust
in my mother’s belly, evolving
into the consciousness
that is Artis Mooney.
Here I stand, Rising still,
Rooted, on the fertile soil
and Sacred Ground
of my life’s Legacy
of Love
& Letting Be.
