Poem: Vows

I have made vows to the wild,
spontaneous and sweeping,
some forgotten,
some bone deep,
promises to listen,
to follow,
to return,
to give.
I have made spells of blood and tears,
dirt and salt,
sand and shell.
I have knelt against the earth,
hands pressed flat
in supplication and surrender.
I have woven wishes into form
from threads of moonlight and dreams.
I have plunged my arms
into newborn waters,
anointed my own brow
with dewdrops,
and slow trickling cave spring rivulets.
I have pressed my prayers
into flower petals and acorns,
into soft yellow sun bread,
and leaning curves of wild rye
and river oats.
I have dedicated myself
body, bones, and breath
to my place,
to the land I walk on.
I follow its teachings
and trust its wisdom.
For me, the Goddess lives here
between oak branch and stone,
between sky and wings.

I am working on a “vow of faithfulness” (to myself) from a class I am taking by the same name. Today, I was looking through some previous poems for bits of inspiration and I found this one and wanted to share because it is about vows, though it is not, itself, a vow. The class is through WomanSpirit Reclamation, a group I find tremendous enrichment and inspiration from.

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