My days are spent traversing the switchbacks between woman and wild...
Living on the edge between here and there. It’s glorious and confusing - utterly home and completely alien all at once. Sometimes, when my senses are so full I’m afraid I might fragment into a thousand Tracie pieces, surrendering into the moment is the only thing possible.
by Tracie Nichols
into this silent
to the day
in a breath
in the arms
of the mother
|Blue peony by Sandy Keeton|
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!~