POEM: A Woman Unto Herself (2 of 6)

Part 2 of a 6 part poem about the Divine Feminine and becoming a woman

Photo credit: Ashley Hallmark

You can find Part I here. 

II. The Thousand Arms of the Goddess 

A thousand arms to hold the whole, 
a thousand forms to ward off fear,
a thousand lips to smile through pain,
a thousand ways to say Her name!
A thousand lives
each birth different from the last.
A thousand ways to die 
at the hand of The Goddess. 
Some of them end in terror...
and some in bliss.
Either way,
the last breath is a kiss.

A thousand times I heard the cry
of babies for their mother’s milk,
of men for mother’s last goodbye,
on battlefields of earth and clay.
Of course, we long for Her 
with the intensity of Life itself!
Of course, we fear her power! 
She births, blossoms, 
and devours. 
Our first breath and last goodbye.
And every orgasm, 
laugh and sigh.
Talk about mother issues. 

Maiden, mother, crone. 
She is time 
and beyond time, 
but never on our time.
Mother of the Buddhas,
and the woman tending the fire
on the rim of the volcano.
The one who came to you
when all was lost,
a womb of all possibility arising from 
Nothing.
She is The Mystery in all things,
But she is found
inhabiting most fully:
the bodies of women.

The Goddess in all her glory! 
Spinning through space as celestial matter.
Drawing moons into orbit.
She is the source of all activity and its unfolding.
Receptive to the impulse that orchestrates life.
Impossibly complex mistress 
of all that comes and goes.
Through us, She bears witness to Herself.
Through us, She enacts 
the epic vision of Her Consort.
Electric field and hive of work,
her kaleidoscopic heart beats:
now...and now...now...and now...
Behind her breasts like mountain peaks
the earth's tides pull,
the fields breathe--
inhale at dawn, exhale at dusk.
Heart of insight, heart of sympathy!
The embodiment of Wisdom, Sophia.

Around the bend and back again. 
Down into the abyss to collect the treasure. 
Seven veils drop. Seven powers granted.
So she can spread Unconditional Love:
The maiden’s amour,
The sister’s friendship,
The mother’s love,
The crone’s omniscient guidance,
Love everlasting and without attachment, 
That shines through the eyes and smile 
Of a woman who knows 
firsthand how life works. 
And death, too.
In time she will illuminate 
all the truths that seem obvious 
only once they are revealed. 

This wisdom is passed 
woman to woman.
Where the chain breaks, 
so does a heart.
We must teach our daughters
how to hold their power.
We must teach them yes and no.
How to discern right from wrong,
In the moment
according to The Laws 
they hold in their bones.
Not those made by Man;
especially a few men.

Arrogance is Her irritation;
like a splinter under Her soft skin of light.
Even Her wrath is wisdom.
She will pull the rug out from under 
your conditional confidence. 
In a flash, what you thought you knew, 
what you were sure you had in your possession,
is stripped away. 
Humility is the only way now.
You think you know what’s going on here? Yeah?
Well, let me show you yet another layer
Of the Reality you can’t yet handle.
Her magnificence is terrifying…
And you know you earned this scare with your smallness.
She leans in close and wraps her arms around you
In your ear the whisper 
of a compassionate command:
Stop editing your life.

Quiet now, She rocks the baby
on the porch in the evening glow.
Twilight language on Her lips,
a strand of hair hanging low.
And through the years
those hands will hold
the growing hand 
of that same child.
Never letting go 
even as she blesses their journey
with the softest kiss
and the strongest urge
to go, see, do and be.
She will always, always 
be here as home.