A Christmas Card

The wilderness of you. I look deeply in and see a million pathways. So, of course there is a cabin in the woods. Where else would my poems live? My finger strokes are in the hearth cinder. My clothing drys on the rack.

I read once that women create a beast to know the depth of desire. Perhaps that is how the witch in the woods is born. Allow Her to manifest who She truly is so that She may never know the need to eat you. She is no ouroboros. She is you, calling the slivered self back into wholeness.

Separated, we are consumed with altars and churches, sacrifice and worship, hymns and prayers. To whom are we really giving gratitude and praise? To whom are we confessing a splintered trail? Prisms indeed! Though beautiful in all its fragmented colors, it is the gilded white light slicing darkness which leads us all to safe harbor.

It is in these terms of Light that each day, each breath, each moment begins anew. In this way, there is nothing to forgive or forget. There is no one to worship or despise. To bathe in the brilliance of One is to know Love; it is be Love; it is to love “other” as oneself. This is the Immortality of Us.