Welcome to Gaia! ::

Grandmother Spider weaves her story
into your bones, into the red clay
of your womb. There you are, on your knees,
clawing at the soil; in a forest shaped by echoes,
forgetting the promise of the steady, reliable, life.

She is the wave that crashes into your thighs,
the leaves imprinted within your pages,
the voice in the wind that dances with your hair.

She is the panic of a life lived in silence.
You cannot quiet a voice that holds
a civilization. She will erupt in you
like Pele's passion flowing down
the volcanoes of Hawaii. The phoenix
soars under her sky. A heart burns.

Her words carry you under the earth
and into the realm of the drifting ancestors.
And it is there that you brush off your knees,
get up on your own two feet,
look to the shining dew in the sky,
and pledge to open the door to Life.

The golden snake continues to eat itself,
while the medicine wheel holds your tears.
And so we wake up to a sky on fire,
a house crumbling, and an earth opening up
beneath the waves that swallow her creation.

We buried our stillborn children; our sacrifice
to the void that shaped our dimension, to the life
that breathes with our every inhale.

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Author's Comments

And when the body trembles, you know it is time to let the voice out.

She meant the womb you came from. The story is part of you.

I loved it, Rem. And to my eternal surprise, I understood it. well, most of it.