Mary Magdalene's Day

A few days ago,

I was in the company

of pines and oaks

with no cell phone reception

or the internet.

The clouds were moving,

the sunshine

was kissing me on and off,

the ravens were chatting,

many birds were singing,

and I was enjoying

hearing it all

when my moon time

began to flow…

Being called

to be

with the ground,

painting,

the dried pine needles

in red.

A little later,

after that event,

thunder and lighting

began to serenade the place.

Big clouds

covered the sky

just above

the area where I was.

The rain poured down,

cleansing and nourishing

all around.

Everything was transformed

nothing was untouched.

The rain

was pouring down and hard.

Then it got dark fast,

and there,

inside my tent,

the storm and I

had long conversations

with so many depths.

The thunder was roaring,

and the lightning

was my neighbor.

There was nothing to do

but to wait,

to be quiet

and to listen

to what the storm had to say.

Life and death

were dancing

in the same space.

The next morning,

I woke up feeling so much

gratitude and respect

for the magical mysteries

that the ravens tell,

for the many songs

I hear the birds sing,

and the many stories

I enjoy feeling from the wind.

I AM grateful

that the stars and pines

were watching over me.

I ate my breakfast barefoot

with dust all over

my arms and face,

dried blood on my thighs

and my pants

were a little bit wet.

But I smiled at the sun