Sisters

What if they were to meet

in the cloistered garden, there on Iona,

What would they say to one another?



+    I am the Bride of Christ.

•     I am the bride of no man.

+    I clothe myself in humility and walk in silence.

•     I paint my naked body and scream into the wind.

+    I do good works.

•     I carry a wee knife.

+    I spend most precious hours here among the sacred texts.

•     I read the ogham of trees, the placement of stars, the auguries of    birds.

+    I yearn in passion for the Sacred Heart of Jesus.

•     I embrace the deep-beating thrum of the stone.

+    I await the soft light of blessedness to imbue me.

•     I call down the lightning from the dark.

+    I know that I am a child of God.

•     I am a woman fully grown.

+    My world is within these graceful walls.

•     My world surrounds yours utterly.

+    I partake of the Body and Blood.

•     I eat the dripping honeycomb pulled from the hive,

the mistletoe pearls cut in moonlight from the ancient oak.

+    Evening comes; soon bells will ring for prayer in candlelight.

•     Night comes, stirring the long grass;

stars call me to dance among their multitude.

+   I must go in.

•     I must go out.

+    Farewell my wild sister.  Go with God.

•     Fare thee well, Sister.  In Awen we are one.

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