PRIMORDIAL RESOURCES ~ BOTANICALS

Flower Faces BY Kristen Hatgi Sink

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She is my moonshine. I serve her.
She is the living dark in me
the life-death-life of my ebb and flow,
cycles and rhythms,
patterns and swirls.

She governs me,
growing flower-secrets in my womb.
In May, she goddesses me.
She reminds me of my sovereignty
the flower-face behind my mask.

She connects me to Maying:
ceremony, ritual, ReStory.

She sings deep time in my marrow.
She is a mystery-keeper,
a threshold moon,
a liminal sister
priestess of body, soul, and nature.
She threads the old stories to me.
She spells the names of the goddess.
She spells me into new shapes.

She is the innermost chamber,
of the time when men married the goddess of the land
to serve the old ways
the soul ways,
her way.

She is Blodeuwedd, Flower Face.
She is sister owl,
the shining dark,
May’s queen,
maiden blooming.

In her dark sister aspect,
rising new in descent—Samhain
she is death’s bride:
Persephone descending,
Ceridwen cauldron-ing.

She is scorpion, snake
blade, sting.

In springing towards summer
She rises to find her king:
golden honeybees,
the crowned oak.
She seeks her mate,
dancing where pollen hides
between thighs,
inside flowers humming,
vivacious.

Awake, she opens.
Awake, she beckons.
Awake, she sings.

I am the song of myself

weaving branches, ribbons, storylines,
weaving with the Divine Mystery,
weaving with the Sacred Greening.

Stasha Ginsburg / The Wild Remembering