The Return

Jennifer Paige©2004

 

 

The women of your warring tribes
no longer ask your leave.
Awaked-
blind eyes, once closed,
open now with light.
In Autumn trees,
high monuments
bound in blazing fire,
feet set on
desire's paths once overgrown.

Daughters of your warring tribes
no longer shall you lead.
Searching-
thoughts locked once in wrote take flight
alight on ancient wings.
Through Winter skies,
ever-upward reaching,
tides of changing winds
turn minds inward
to knowledge long untold.

Widows of your warring tribes
for you no longer grieve.
Becoming-
bodies once entombed, venerated
now, clothed in rain.
Rites of Spring
and passage make
free-flowing water-brides
worshiping now in glades
of reclaimed valley streams.

Mothers of your warring tribes
no longer on their knees.
Dancing-
hands once clasped in prayer
link now the Circle of Power, free.
In Summer fields,
fertile and green,
covenant in the pulse of Earth,
grown with love of spirit;
the Old Ways have returned.

 

 

Back to 2004

Back to My Poetry