dark stars

there is a terror in the unknowable

a sheer unimagined Bliss

the hand that reaches from ancient fog

shrouded

clouded

cloaked in haphazardness

it is a kind of death

an undoing

a waiting with listlessness that is fuzzy and encumbered.

 

i have crossed over

into unfamiliar terrain

 

this shifting of sands and Time and memory,

this undoing of selves, and sights

this deconstruction of light and shadow

maturing the reminiscent,

seeing through rainbows and tears,

through scattered rays of sun and nighttime fears.

 

i can give myself over to the mystery

to the place of dark stars

and the void that calls

for illumination;

i am floating in the waters of rebirth

and pushing open the petals of eternity

she gives me the call in all her forms:

Kali, Hecate, Lilith, Black Madonna, Tara, Baba Yaga, Oshun, Ereshkigal, Morgan la Feye

she is the dark mother and she sings a soft song

to the heart of remembering

she awakens

inside my body and  now the smell of blood

is present and running through my soul

the power of breath is here

and the sacred feminine

is the holy place of being in the shape of woman.

 

the re-membering is a calling

and to answer

is to bow low and kiss the precious earth;

it is forseen

destiny matched the will

of one with her power

it trembles and shakes

it is an active surrender.

it is the name that runs through

witch

and bitch;

seductress,

and temptress;

prostitute

and destitute;

sorceress

and priestess

 

in the wake of 6000 years of destruction,

persecution,

slavery,

domination

hatred and disease…

 

this face of power

once feared

grows vast with suppression

doubles darkness through light

and is the one-pointed crystal clarity bright

insight

foresight:

it is all that once deems evil mirrored clear: LIVE!

the satan who is Pan of growth and beauty

the demons of lust who embody the power of sex and creation

the black angel of anger and rage gives birth to a dance that honors the earth

that takes her home,

that reimagines our right to be here

reveals our incapacity to own our own Mother

but instead gratitude to know our bodies are her

that we sing her song through our trembling voices

our forms

our blessed eye shine.

 

let the mystery of your tears

and the dark place of your womb

saltify the ground and purify the soul

for in spite of the controller’s fear

she returns.

 

she arises like a Phoenix from the ash

of turbulence

chaos in the shape of spirals

love in the guise of the Goddess

she bears down and emerges.

brilliant.

 

i am her

you are i

we are her

she is you

she is i

and together we dance.

 

katalin koda

winter, 2010