Little girl
Oh precious one
Your little feet are on the precipice
Bridging the gap between Earth and Sky
Your mind vast like the sky
And toes planted among the weaving roots of oak
As you grow, you expand
Learning new things, creating even more.
Playful, laughter, happy
The hot sting as you hurt your
Best friend, and she hurts you.
Hunter and hunted, this is your life.
Like a caribou blowing clouds of frost in
The starlight, looking over her shoulder
At the shadowed tundra
You meander through wavelengths,
Gather some opinions,
Are scolded and mocked for your gender
Before learning to wield the powers that come with it.
Sacred Earth, this is your gift.
Feather in the wind, this is your gift.
The wise counselor, the leader, the warrior, the
Community maker.
The mother, the child
The witch
Who told you everything and yet you choose not to answer,
Instead looping that necklace with a cross
Around and around your neck, hugging the roses
To your bosom like a mother
And here too, in a house built of men and
For men and by men, you find your mother
Again, and she whispers little things of comfort
And rocks you when no one else would.
And you stay for awhile, divine daughter
Fated to heal
So that when you yourself pass through the Earth
And become a mother, she has something
To cling to,
To teach her of her birthright, of the crackle-lightning still-lake powers of her existence.
This is woman.
Woman listens, still as a caribou on the icy river
Crossing in the night
First to what her own stars are telling her
And then to the other’s words
And she decides which of them she thinks are
Rubbish and which ones are privileged enough
To become her puzzle pieces
As she assembles reality.
And she dares to go there, where the dark
Rock and the dark water meet somewhere
Deep below the toes of mountains
To sit in still-ness and magic and power
Steeped in it; to rise as a mystical moon-warrior
Wise woman, shallow no more
To give guidance with healing hands
And at the end of her life she knows it’s okay
To move on into the river rapids,
For another is there to take her place;
Bright, shining Tree-woman, gifted in different
Ways. To continue the cycle. To honor and be honored.
To give healing and receive thanks.
To rule and become one with harmony.
This is woman, little girl.
She is your power source, your light, your guide.
Treat her well. Heed her well.
Bring her little gifts: berries, nuts, chocolates
Make her a painting.
Satisfy her with activism.
Because she will rise like souls, she cannot be
Touched, only fly, hovering over everything to
Dispense her wisdom.
This is woman and
Despite her special gifts
She lays curled and trusting in YOUR heart.
Protect her and do what’s right.
Be good, woman.
Do good, woman.
Love other women.
But most importantly,
Love yourself.

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- Age 19