Greetings all. I wanted to share this poem that I wrote back in July on one of my nights with the flame. I was hoping to share it before now...but time marched on and here it is October. Hopefully this will be a reminder of the season we have left and of the promise that it will return.
Call of the Forge
her forge burns bright
it dries the milk from my breasts
it stokes the sun
droplets of sweat beading on my back
she whispers to me that the mother fire
is slowing down
it will burn on without constant vigilance
and now the artist in side calls
she yells for attention
deep inside the womb
cradled by my soul
the creative fire begins to crackle
to burn more brightly once again
her forge burns bright
it dries the milk from my breasts
it stokes the sun
droplets of sweat beading on my back
she whispers to me that the mother fire
is slowing down
it will burn on without constant vigilance
and now the artist in side calls
she yells for attention
deep inside the womb
cradled by my soul
the creative fire begins to crackle
to burn more brightly once again
