This writing came from a journey in which we were given a spark.
I held the spark in my open cupped hands, for a long time. It was like holding liquid light.
After awhile I became aware we were dressed as Native American women elders.
We were sitting in a circle together, in a tipi. I still held the spark in my open cupped hands.
After sometime I threw it into the centre of the tipi where it became a fire,
which became very full and rising very high till it nearly reached the top of the tipi.
It then changed its shape to be a singular line that moved spiral like in a clockwise circular direction.
It cut through us, sweeping us into the air through the top opening of the tipi.
Our clothes were taken off and we were returned as we were sitting, back into the room.
Great Grandmother
sent air spirits carrying news -
The grandmothers are here.
Champagne of the golden grape
of the sunny long and latitude.
The grandmothers are here -
Bow down to That.
Give praise to That.
The grandmothers are here -
Sounds of sweetness, of allowing.
Empathy unfolding, waters speaking.
Rivers flowing with the knowing -
The grandmothers are here.
The grandmothers are here.
The Grandmothers Are Here
2010 ©