It was a quiet morning, a normal morning….
The refrigerator was humming, the clock ticking, the crows cawing over some especially tasty bit from the
compost pile. Just me, a grocery list, and pen. No foreshadowing. No hints at
what was brewing in the ethers.
Then
She was suddenly there. Her. The Great ineffable Feminine. Her voice ringing me
like a wobbly crystal bowl. In that moment it was her words that cascaded
through my heart and out my pen, calling me back into presence. Calling me back
into my body and my life. Rescuing me from hum-drum coasting.
I wrote
and marveled. So few words. So much meaning. Moved, as so many of us are, by a
voice that all at once seemed not to be mine, but felt deeply my own.
A Holy
Part Of This
by Tracie Nichols
by Tracie Nichols
Sunlight
can smell like
ripe
peaches or salty marshes
and in
the wind you may notice
the
mineral tang of a distant mountain
So why
is it that you only
notice
these things
when
they are
called
to your attention?
What is
so important
that
you allow
the
rich, ripe beauty
of this
Place
to slip
past your
rushing
tumbling
awareness?
Perhaps
{beloved}
you
need to
remember…
You
are a
holy
part
of
this.
Tracie
Nichols
has written poetry since she was 11 years old. While most of her early works
are gone (this is probably a good thing) she continues to scribble poems at odd
hours about everything from the state of her soul to the sounds of her kitchen.
In truth, though, her poetic heart belongs to the deep green places of our
wildly, fiercely, sacred, earth. When she isn’t making poetry with words she’s
listening to the whispers of the green world, making alchemy with plants and
stones and moonlight wildness. Tracie blogs, shares resources and generally
nurtures at her website here. Connect with her also on Twitter or Facebook.
~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~
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