Please join us in celebrating the 2015 Nine-Day Solstice Celebration dedicated to Finding Our Inner Voice on Thursday, December 17th 9pm PST. Welcome your own inner voice warmly with a guided meditation, hear Lucy Pierce and Marie de Kock in conversation about it, including a contribution by Arna Baartz, do some gentle exercises to liberate your Inner Voice and listen to a poem clearly expressing Her.
Young May Day marchers dance in the street with heads uncovered, hair streaming and banners waving.
Four campers dance holding balloons, which were a feature of the mass demonstrations outside the US Air Force base at Greenham Common in the UK, where women famously maintained a peace camp for nearly 20 years. Continue reading
Women of the Mallee district of Western Victoria dance for rain during the long drought of the early years of this century. They are accompanied by Dorothea Mackellar, Australia’s foremost and most popular poet of the land.
Women from Juárez, Mexico, demonstrate for justice for their daughters, victims of the high rate of femicide for which their city is notorious. The predominance of pink reflects the use of this colour in the campaigns conducted by the mothers to emphasise the youth and femininity of the victims.
Women lifesavers (including one in a burqini) dance on a beach. Mermaids populate the ocean behind the figures.
we take the cable car
up the dragon-backed mountain
to the Black Madonna
the Virgin of Montserrat
Inspired by Yvonne M Lucia’s recent post, I would like to share one of my Guadalupe poems. The original Virgin of Guadalupe is Spanish and has strong colonial and conquest associations: among other things, it was at the Monastery of Guadalupe in Extremadura that Isabella and Ferdinand signed documents authorising the first voyage of Christopher Columbus, and it was to this monastery that in 1496 Columbus brought two indigenous men to be baptised, the first New World converts to Christianity.
This poem celebrates the Virgin’s escape from those associations.
we were with you
as you scoured desert sands
demanding to know
where your dear daughter had gone
who had taken her
who held her
Blighting the earth with drought
raging and howling
We too cried out her name
her many her three hundred names
We too asked the sun
the copper sun who knows everything
Where were you? What did you see?