When I wrote these two poems, I was begging for understanding. I wanted to give thanks and stand proudly and with strength in whom I know myself to be. Who I see so many others stepping into for themselves.
There has been a beautiful outpouring of messages coming from around the world since it was first posted in November of 2014. I wrote this after a week at a Women's GAthering and then being prompted by an photograph of a naked protester in South America.
To you who feel these words so deeply, thank-you. Thank-you for your open and loving messages. Thank-you for the honour you have given me of your respect and understanding.
Please feel free to share from this space.
We are the granddaughters and great-granddaughters
of the Witches you could not burn
as well as some of those whom you did.
We did not have the teachers to show us the way.
We did not have the time 'round their hearth to know.
Some of them hid in the shadows of new faith to protect their families from the oils,
stakes and gallows.
Some of us were able to hear their tales and learn their ways.
Many of us, we're just learning from our blood,
Begging us to remember who we are.
Begging us to go back to the Earth, go back to the hearth, go back to our cauldrons and herbs.
We are the granddaughters of the witches you could not burn.
We will take this Earth into a new space and heal her with our blood, our tears, our joys, our laughter, our pains.
We will stand strongly with our partners, families, children and sisters and make this change like a hurricane of new.
We are the granddaughters and great-granddaughters of the witches you could not burn, and the ones you did.
Like the phoenix we rise for them, wings spread out to encompass the great ALL. As they meant it to be for us, so will it be.
We will not be staked this time.
We will rise, we will heal, we will be that which is most greatly feared.
Self-governing mothers nurturing this world in one way or another,
childless or many babes, it matters not.
For we have been greatly underestimated as has our blood.
We are the granddaughters of the witches you could not burn,
their spirits live wildly within us.
The Ravens Caw
I remembered who I was in the way that your sacredness showed itself to me.
In watching I remembered that I was sacred too.
In moving with you I remembered. While watching you protect the fires, I remembered my courage and passions.
While watching you wade in protection of the waters, I regained the flow of my emotions.
While hearing the movement of the air pass your lips
in rhythms of thanks and gratitude, I was given my desire to share again and to learn once more in thanks.
While watching you tend the Earth with love and care,
I was given my home back to tend and appreciate.
My stability regained, my job quite clear.
I was lost and the Spirit of your ways, woke me up!
Showed me who we were once, and who we are to be once again.
I remember who I am.
I search out the knowledge and remember from beneath my skin.
thank all my relations, of all colors, nations, creeds.
Those who remember and those still asleep, to who we all truly are.
Ravens caw, the message is sent
It is the simplest, most intricate events in this life that cultivate slowly to make the greatest things happen. These small weavings through time are a treasures we often overlook. Walk each moment in a way that leaves you whole and not wanting. Not always the way it goes but surely the way most rewarding, most memorable and most pleasing when hindsight sits at your feet, beckoning you to understand the lesson.
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©2010 Cari-Lee Miller & Recipe for Alchemy.
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Your medicine is in the woods.
Your pharmacy is in your kitchen.