Intuition and compassion combined with knowledge an effective healer make, yet, historically, women applying such skills – labelled witches – burnt at the stake. The
Even in togetherness there is distance. I am alone – a central figure, distracted, aiming for contact, unable to eviscerate control, repeatedly producing a singular
Purpose – much coveted, despair-driven – has returned. Energy – motivation to proceed – building. Willingness – once vibrant, now constrained – resists. Chasms –
Ancestral circles steeped in lore – symbolism lost, and imminent – Geometric rhythms play with destiny, ascribe fates. (For Willow Poetry’s What Do You See?
Digging for gold in an overcrowded mine, the dust of narcissism blinding our passage. Rural roots worship celebrity – well-travelled hype overshadowing common decency –
I toil in the dreamtime like a night manager in a hotel without walls, catering to clientele – whose needs, so diverse, rattle the rows