Womb

I was held in your womb - mother - held by the broom stick of the witch that came to save me - lift me out of the mothers mucus into the sky - so I could remember my daemon - my acorn, my astra, my genius. I can remember now - that path of burning white light as I descended - soul to the world - down, down, down through the air - through whizzing noise then into this unknown substance called flesh - trapped now in the body of someone I do not know but called me in - an inescapable tractor beam that called to me - I listened, followed and then, caught! This is something else! This flesh body is a hard pill to swallow for my fleeting soul. I long now to be untethered - to reach again for the stars - to hear them sing my name just as my mother began to sing my soul into her body - so strange, singing a soul into ones flesh and blood with a unique song that came from the soul itself. Indigenous peoples would do this - the woman waits for the song, teaches it to her husband - they sing it as they make love, it is sung as the child is born - and then it is sung all the way through their life in the community and is the final sound the babe in deaths arms hears as she departs as a soul - magic, perfect. Closer to calling in than entrapment - what so many soul experience today. And we, well we are finding ways to weave - to be the sycamore propellers that will go wherever the wind will take us - but strangely, strangely, still in the same direction - for we are one in the rio abajo - the river beneath the river that is leading to the sea - but has on its way much life to teach - to impart, to imprint - or rather, to uncloak so that our true destiny imprinted in our souls at birth comes to life - is delivered like a stork dropping the package of gift to the world. You - are a gift - I am a gift - from the gods to each other - to the one and the all.