Standard Bearer

“Essence Pool” © J Porter, 2010
Glacier Pothole, Interstate Park, Minnesota

Deep in the Essence pool
I sink
Unencumbered by old ways so that I can find the Old Ways
Locked within self

Waiting

They did not need to wait for ever
And I am so grateful for their song
I dance a slower dance now,
But I still dance

It is woven of fibers of mist and fire
Of sinew and bone
It soars through the air
And hunkers by the fire
It remembers the running, giggling girl
And honors the fickle, fecund maiden
It embraces the mother’s heart
It takes the standard of Crone
With open arms

It is all that I am
Open, bold, free
What I do not give
Cannot be taken

Be careful what you ask for,
and of
me.

 

© J Porter, 13 July 2010

Author’s Note: Resurrected 13 May 2017. Even more pertinent.

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Run

“Run” Digital Collage

© J. Porter, 2017

we run, we run

we twist ourselves into fantastical shapes
and pretend to breathe

we run from ourselves
and our world
and what we have done to it.

© J. Porter, 2017

Transition Point

A snowy stream is seen through Glen Span Arch at the southern end of the Ravine, a wooded section of New York's Central Park, Thursday, Feb. 25, 2010.
Glen Span Arch, Central Park, 2010.
(AP Photo/Eric Carvin)

Grasping for Life
death grip
on hand transparent
meeting dark,
beyond dark

light
vague
hope at the end
of tunnel, long

frozen
in place
fear
rooting feet
in the no-place

gentle light
growing
candle flicker
gentle hands
guiding
gentle words
reminding
gentle love
encouraging

blessed
blessed beyond measure

© j. porter 2012-2017 et al

Rise

“The View From a Leaf”
Photo Credit – Kobi Refaeli, 2014

We are not needed
In the Great Forests
Or the Rushing Waters
Or the Deserts Beneath the
Great Full Moon

The Beings that inhabit those spaces
Are Already Awake

We must go where we least desire

Among the humans of the world
Who sleep a sleep so deep
They have forgotten

That it is We who need
The Great Forests
and the Rushing Waters
and the Deserts Beneath the
Great Full Moon

Let us Rattle!
And let us Drum!
Ring the Bells
And light the Twisted Sweet Dried Grasses
Aflame
Within Shells of Ancient Ocean Beings’
Long Hardened Homes

Let us Dance beneath the Moon
Among the humans of the world
Who sleep a sleep so deep
They have forgotten

That without
The Great Forests
and the Rushing Waters
and the Deserts Beneath the
Great Full Moon

There is no reason for us to be here

Rise, Shaman, Rise!
Though your Hearts Break
To Leave the Sacred Spaces

Rise

Rattle your Drums
So that there are no Spaces left
Where Sacred is not ReMembered

© J. Porter 2013 et al

Old Crow Woman

“The Listeners”
Artwork by Christine MacDonald
©2015 All rights reserved.

I can’t do Justice

To your Memory, Old Friend

There is Loss here too.

The Ladies of the Waters

“Haven” © J. Porter, 2017

I have Felt Them
in every Place I’ve been
where pristine pools meet
reeds and groves of supple green
where the red-winged blackbirds
make their homes
muskrats and frog croaks and slithery fish

They are
fog rising at dusk and morn
and Life oozing from the mud
between their toes
…when they have toes…
They are the glimmer of motes
in a sudden ray of sun reflecting
bouncing off the trees
birthing rainbows in the mist
They can’t be grasped
They can’t be held
but They can surround you
and hold you in Their embrace

They are the Ladies of the Marsh
and the River
and the Deep Pools at the bottom of
the Rushing Torrents
from the mountain Streams

She of the bracken
and the last lights of the dwindling Fae
She of the dragonfly
and of the reed grasses
dancing in moonlight
They will show you the Hidden Things
of yourself
if you are still and humble
and treat Their Beloveds with respect
and if you are lucky
and if you are bold
and if your heart and your mind and your spirit
can be still long enough
to See to Listen
you will find yourself in the branching leaves
in water rivulets trickling
in mossy tender glades
in fern
in damp
in roots where secrets hide

She is a Lady of the Waters

the Wild Ones nestle in her hands
they hide in her shallows
in the mist at morning and night
in the undulating plants of the deep courses
in the gentle pools
they drink and love and nourish and live and perish

She is A Lady of the Waters
with Heron Legs
and Egret Eyes
Serpents entwining Her arms
Her Voice the Song
of Frog
of Loon
of Owl
of Night Cats
and Bats
the hum of Mosquitoes
and the rat-a-tat-tat of Woodpecker
The stamp of Deer
and sibilant whisper of Willow leaves
against the mossy banks

Sister to the Moon
Daughter of the Earth
She dances
Just out of reach
Her laughter echoing in tidal pools
She is the Mother of silvery fish
the Cousin of the Meadow Maiden
the Guardian of the Sacred Peat

Without Her
we are nothing
Without Her
we live bereft

They are the Ladies of the Waters
Life-giving
Ephemeral
Constant
Sacred

© j. porter 2017 et al

One

We are All each other

Some Parts

Too hard to handle
Too wounded
Too ecstatic

So we walk away

Some we Bless as we Turn
Some we curse as we Turn
Some we mourn as we Turn

We Bless
We curse
We mourn

Our Selves

What if we did a Soul Retrieval
For the World?