A poem for the wild wombyn

As the moon reaches Her fullness, I feel you, sister. As the fires rage on, I weep with you, sister. As the heat of the summer fades, I sweat with you, sister. As we remember, When we were burned for being Wise. For embodying Sophia, we were called devil worshippers. I laugh at their scorn weave songs, breathe dances, swirl infusions, pick Her herbs, sew … Continue reading A poem for the wild wombyn

The Women’s Room

Never has the “Women” sign felt so welcoming. All my previous rage about separateness fades as the illusion of drama dissipates in the Truth of Death. The Women’s Room. A safe haven to be Woman; Human. I’m doing my best not to touch door handles and faucets with my fingers until I make it to the flowing water of The Women’s Room,  where in the sink I wash … Continue reading The Women’s Room