Herland

%22bride to self 2%22 © 2013 heather rhodes studio petronella all rights reserved 500 pxh.jpg

In the stormy weather of Herland
She stirs the potion

Deep and dark is the pot
As she mixes the medicine

Swirling ‘round, spinning
Your inner constellations
Until they are dizzy with

Potency
Possibility
Promiscuous Honesty
And
Silent Reverence

A wild child beats the drum of 
Ten thousand ancestors
Praying mantis perched upon
Her shoulder

Your organs are on fire
As you shed your skins

Mother Drum beats louder still
In rhythm with your heart

Walls crumble
Fences lay broken
Oceans collide

Fish swim
In the clouds

The birds
Burrow deep
Into the ground

Dancers fall to their knees
Pressing their ear against the floor
To listen
To the
Earth
Speak

She pours the liquid into your eyes
Burning through your hesitation

Harnessing the pale ghost horses of your shame
With bridles of compassion

Shaking the steady rock beneath your feet

Stoking the roaring fire within

Juicy green apples fall from yielding branches
As heartfelt offerings

You trip and stumble
As your vision clears
A hot honey, burning sweet

You are the doe-eyed bride
You are the harlot
Barefoot, running through the forest
To the chapel
In search of
Holy union
With
Yourself

Fragrant flowers fall around you
Brushing lightly against your brand new skin

Kernels of rice lay scattered
At your feet
Sprouting
Thick
Green
Tendrils

The forest is alive with song

Now
The delicate bird in the cage of
Your heart Is finally set
Free

To fly with abandon
In the vast fields of
Wonder

 

image & text ©  heather rhodes  at  studio petronella   all rights reserved
model: rozlynne