Photo by Iren Schio
The two climbed steep hills
and rubble to reach the meadow.
The flat-topped mountain peered down
at the women
gathering stones (from her body)
as if they were diamonds.
Amber, moss, pearl white,
rose red and orange,
gray and ebony – a luminescence
emanated from each,
almost as if the moon had
infused each flake and boulder
with her translucent light. Continue reading
Photo by Sara Wright
The Turning of the Wheel
Today heavy mist shrouds the apple trees and rises like puffs of smoke over the mountains. Every twig is still covered with lush green leaves and every time I look out a window I feel that gratitude pulsing through me – the wonder of being alive. A brilliant green frog inhabits my toad pond. Last night a Datura blossom literally opened before my eyes etched with pale lavender – a moonflower of exquisite fragrance and beauty, and if anything, I appreciate these moon blossoms here more than I did in the desert. Continue reading
As a child I adored my very distant mother and did everything I could to please her, including becoming a second mother to my baby brother at four years old. I remember tenderly holding him and giving him his bottles.
Is that why I became so devoted to the divine image of Mary, Queen of Heaven the moment I was exposed to her at the convent garden that I secretly visited each day on my way home from kindergarten? Continue reading
What happens when Hate wins?
Do the Sandhill cranes stop singing?
Do the junipers cease to release their scent?
Do the stars fall into the sea?
Does the white moon weep??
I want to keep writing stories… Continue reading
Photo by Sara Wright
I stood out under the thick gray clouds
And listened to the bird song,
the roaring river flood,
watched the swallows
cutting the invisible link between
earth and sky
with sword like precision
and wished I could stay…
I stopped the thought
pulling back the thread –
Coming here at all
was a gift beyond imagining. Continue reading
Photo by Sara Wright.
For the last couple of days we have had cloudy weather with a few irregular cloudbursts bringing much needed rain to our Juniper clustered high desert…When it rains earth tones deepen and the stones that line my paths standout like people. Perhaps they are Kachinas, after all.
Kachinas are on my mind because these holy people come down from the mountains to help the Tewa pueblo peoples invoke the rain – gods that will help the crops grow. Squash, corn, and beans remind me that the Three Sister’s technology lives on. The Kachinas have been around since the winter solstice but they stay hidden until the spring dances begin at the pueblos… Continue reading
Photo by Sara Wright.
When I first arrived in Abiquiu the Pedernal stood out above the other mountains with its imposing triangular shape and flattened top. Initially this mesa fascinated me because Georgia O’Keeffe painted it so often, but after a while, although I liked the Pedernal it became one mountain amongst many others… However, I also knew that the Navajo’s mythical Changing Woman was born on this flat – topped mesa and that story continued to intrigue me.
Photo credit: Polar Bear © Eric Regeler
She came to me
in a dream
under the shadow of a ripening moon.
Wet fur shining
great paw extended
Photo Credit: Sara Wright
(4/10/13 – 1/22/16)
What do I mean by the words Spirit Animal? Indigenous peoples take it for granted that each animal has an Elder Spirit who watches over that particular species. Most of the time this Elder Spirit stays in the other world as a discarnate being. But there are exceptions and sometimes these Spirit Animals cross over to our world. Some come as teachers, some come to warn of impending danger, some give their lives so other can live, some come to bless a child or to act as a protector, healer or personal guide, all embody Grace and love with a capital “L.”
Per Wikipedia, Datura “was known as an essential ingredient of potions and witches’ brews.” The word witch was first coined by the King James version of the Bible, which appeared in the 1600’s. A women’s holocaust occurred in Europe and the United States (Salem, Massachusetts, Abiquiu, New Mexico) in the 16th and 17th centuries when thousands, perhaps a few million rural women of all ages were burned as witches. In a nutshell, women have been healers since ancient times. When men became “doctors” they took over the role of healer from women, and conveniently dispensed with the latter by burning them alive.
There she is in flight,
a shooting star on fire.
There she spirals eyeless
her blue wind births chaos.
There she moans bitterly
churning up dark waters.
There she plows fiercely
heaving up mountains. Continue reading
Guadalupe by Armando – Adrian Lopez. Photo by Sara Wright. For more about the artist, see www. armandolopez.com.
Lupita, Guadalupe –
Your agave points of light glow in grave darkness.
Hecate’s Moon is Red.
The Raven slices the sky into shards.
The River catches shivering stars.
We remember the First Mother… Continue reading
Election Dream: November 9th
Just an image: I see bleached, broken, slashed, and severed tree roots scattered over the entire horizon – which seem to stretch out in front of me in all directions – the ground, as far as I can see, has become a wasteland.