Bushbabies and Bananas

Now is the time of the Summoning call Them back to you the unloved Selves the unwanted Truths the fractured  gather your Wounded the yearnings set free in your dreamscape to wander  untethered, uncaged as they could not here. Summon them gently invite them back in ... The crying Child  afraid of shouting voices leaving  tell her it will all work out and that she turned out strong not needing to belong  or stay where there was fear. The Dreamer who forsook reality  for brighter sunny skies ask her to bring back the color It’s lonely here without her magic. The Angel who tore off her Wings  when She felt unworthy of Gods love remind her of water falling in sunlight  and the deep peace of being held in His Light. The Rebel who could not bear the suffering of the world  and lost herself in an alternate dimension. Call them back  You will be stronger  now that you know how to love them.  And they will bring home  a thousand tales of journeys under far Suns  and recipes from strange Lands fo

A thousand deaths I died enmeshed in your warped idea of “Love” my own dreams sucked lifeless by your not being enough and having to crush me to prove you are tough But I did this I opened the door to you and invited you into my soft, gentle heart where you proceeded without fanfare to shred it apart A thousand tears I cried as the happy little voices in my head  stopped laughing  and wept bitterly instead as I lay sleepless at night breathless with dread But I did this I allowed you to stay instead of sending you on your way and I faded inside taking the plunging crash  down  to the dark places  deep underground A thousand times I tried  to whisper to that little flame of hope to burn strong again but I could not find the words to coax me back into bright and so I stumbled on lost and alone in the Night I did this I ignored the yearnings of my own truth and so I am not quite sure what to say   to my self  looking back at me i

                        was badly wounded traversing the wastelands cold winds tearing at Him suffering alone so much to give so full of courage and strength so needing to be loved better so needing to live She was trapped in the Underworld Her wing broken so gentle, so kind so needing to learn how to be loved so needing clarity of mind Pic:  Credit Unknown Somewhere in Africa as Spring was returning to the dry land and the full yellow moon  rising over the savanna a Lion roared setting into motion a Destiny that was written when the stars were being born Credit:  Laurent Baheux And the Angels wept with joy as the Sword of Integrity and Devotion, that had been forged in the fire of His Wounding  was drawn He made a promise to the Spirit that lived within Him – the Stag – King of all that is honorable, wild, and free She had a vision of a Peace of the Heart of Earth where all was gentle and golden and in wise

Briefly I believe in something beautiful, kind, good, pure in the World – call it Source/Light/Love.  And obviously the dark is undeniable – it pulls the puppets' strings from the shadows… feeding on our misery. When I name gods and goddesses below, I am speaking about the archetypes I feel running through the fabric of reality… the olde magical Celtic ways are beautiful to me.  There is a basic rule – Harm None.  And so I write for the animals, for the Earth, and for my Self to be healed. If we all just took responsibility for transmuting our own Shadows, the world would be immediately lighter, brighter, and kinder. All my writing :   © 2017 The Priestess Speaks: When the primal Flood receded          I was there                   Soil bare as Wind loved Me  He carved Me into Mountains of Stone   the Ice came      retreated    and I stood         alone I AM Africa     My bones are ancient matter              of a Promise made