Poem: Sacred Flame

Today it is red headed woodpeckers
that delight me,
wings white ovals
and heads rich red
as they slip between the trees,
staccato work ringing out
into morning.
There are red shouldered hawks too,
cries slicing through the gray clouds.
There is a broken branch
that looks like a woman,
arm outstretched with a bird in her hand.
I see more monarch butterflies
on the sunflowers,
and alone.
I remember barefoot dancing
with sisters in the sand
and wonder what has changed.
When do we care
and when do we close?
When do we dig in,
crack our hearts open,
allow ourselves
both to feel and to trust.
Today, my rune is the Wand,
the rune of blessing,
calling in and sending forth,
making sacred.
May we make sacred
what we can,
remembering that we can both call in
and send forth,
that we have the power
to change what we experience
and what we offer.
We can bathe in presence
and soften into wholeness.
We can allow ourselves
to see and to be
with all that we are
and all that we have (to share).
Later, as I’m teaching my workshop,
a monarch butterfly arrives
and brushes across the back of my hair.
That night I danced across the sand
around the fire
while a small green flame kept the rhythm
as the drums played on and on.

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