Some time ago in dreamtime I was handed a sword. I instinctively knew I had to use my inner power to light it up. The light instantly travelled up the sword and I reached up and pricked my finger and watched my blood run down the sword. A year later and I was called to write this poem.
A garden of tranquility, The turning of the sky In the shadow of fragility A surrender in the cry.
I haven’t started dancing Yet yielding to the trancing Dragonflies with wings of lace Swords of light and grace.
Picking at the bones, Ravens on my shoulders, Sutures for the heart, Knitted in the fire.
A sleeping smiling dragon, Coalescing all my courage, A formulation for the birthing, Shards of consciousness unearthing A surrender in the cry.
When you are handed a sword and the whole thing lights up with sparkling white light you know something very unique is happening.
Ann-Marie
Spiritual Healer
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